I Am Of Two Worlds
by Madame Hatter
Summary: After entering the Time Dragon Clock, Elphaba travels to the 21st century where a life is already waiting for her and Fiyero. Meanwhile, Glinda has married the new Emperor, but finds that a new enemy is arising. Full summary inside. Incomplete, for now.
1. Ode to Macbeth

_**Author's Note: It's a bit Alice in Wonderland meets Hook, but I hope you enjoy anyway! It feels wonderful writing Wicked again. Please, leave comments, reviews, criticism--I do take them to heart and it helps me improve and grow. Thank you!  
**_

**Full Synopsis: **After entering the Time Dragon Clock, Elphaba travels to the 21st century where a life is already waiting for her and Fiyero. Meanwhile, Glinda has married the new Emperor, but finds that a new enemy is arising—one she's not ready for. Over ten years have past since the two friends last seen each other, but when Elphaba's daughter, Elena, stumbles into the world of Oz by accident, the return of the Wicked Witch is more than inevitable. It's fate.

_**I Am Of Two Worlds…**_

**Chapter One**

Strawberry, cinnamon and mint in the air; every ingredient handled with care; a blending of black and pink and green, and maybe a color yet to be seen; double, double, a pinch of trouble, stir and whisk and let it bubble. Precision and measure, a dash of pleasure, simmer and soon we'll have a treasure.

A trickle of sweat followed the crease on her forehead. Glinda wiped it with the back of her sleeve. It was the only time she didn't care for deportment or style, the only time when she was completely content with being, well, a slob. The Grimmerie was stacked between a dozen cookbooks in the corner where she knew she wouldn't be tempted to look. That thing was full of spells and recipes for disaster; how could _anyone_ possibly do any good with it?

The cauldron began to shake and she shushed it back to stillness.

"What smells so sweet?" A man with dark, wavy hair resting neatly on top of his shoulders entered and kissed his wife on the cheek.

"It's the brew," Glinda answered automatically, her eyes fixed on the pot.

"No, I think it's you," he said smiling. But, even the compliments went over her head. He knew nothing could interrupt her at work and that was why he loved her so much. "Dinner?" Before he could dip a finger inside the pot, a wand slapped the back of his hand.

"It's a potion. And you'd be well off if you kept your grubby fingers out of this one," she said, giving him a stern look. "Besides, we don't want you growing extra body parts." She lowered her eyes back to the fire, fluttering her wand over the embers.

"Not _that_ potion again," he said, sighing. "Glinda, how many trials have you had with this one?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Five…"

"Glinda."

"…hundred. And three." She grabbed an apple slice and dropped it into the cauldron, poured a bowl of rose petals and sprinkled a bit of starlight. She continued to stir.

"I don't want you growing another arm," he said.

"I have an antidote already made," she said pointing to the bottle of magenta, although she couldn't help but shudder at the thought of another arm growing out of her. Actually, she was completely adamant of preventing that from happening because she almost had a meltdown the last time something unusual had grown out of her. For three hours, she was anatomically imperfect, absolutely hideodeous, U-G-L-Y with quite a suspicious alibi. No, she was ready this time because if she ever saw another mole again, she swore she would kill herself.

The brew began to boil and blubber, tremble and hiss, its content stirring itself into a shade of blue and silver. Glinda bit her bottom lip and stared at it hopefully. She grabbed onto the edge of the counter until her tiny fingers turned pale, until the potion began rise to the brim and slowly…

"No… no!" Before she could stop the pot from overflowing, two arms slipped around her waist and pulled her away. A large cloud of green smoke hovered above the cauldron and it burst into droplets in the air. She knew it would only be seconds until the whole cauldron exploded. A cape was drawn over her, shielding her from the blast. She pressed herself against her husband's chest as she tried to keep a stiff upper lip. Another failure.

"Sweet Oz," she grumbled softly after the excitement had subsided. The ceiling and walls were covered in gray and indigo globs of what the explosion had spat out. The cauldron had cracked in half and the fire was dying in the ashes. "Sorcery, potions—why are they all so difficult for me?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said. "Your potions and antidotes are remarkable. You concocted remedies for the ancient curses of the Grimmerie. You saved the Governor of Munchkinland from living a life of tin."

"But this is for _me_," she said desperately. It wasn't that she meant to sound selfish. She didn't mean to think too much of herself. In fact, she would sacrifice herself for the good of the people; a martyr she would be if times warranted it. Although she shamefacedly admitted to herself that she would do it out of acclaim. She knew a girl who had done it regardless of what people thought of her.

"It's a difficult potion," her husband reassured her. "It's nothing I have ever heard of."

"I wish Elphaba were here," she confessed, picking up the broken parts of the cauldron.

"Glinda." He sighed. There was distress in his frown. The way his forehead wrinkled with concern made her feel guilty. She was usually so optimistic and perky. He lowered his voice. "This is black magic. These types of concoctions, what you're trying to do, date back to Lurline's time, when sorcery was uncontrollable and alchemy dangerously unlimited. Magic then would involve murdering Animals and using their organs to cast the most powerful of spells. You can't attempt their magic without… replicating that kind of sacrifice."

She closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to suppress the chill from spreading across her body. History was never one of her favorite subjects, especially when it entailed stories of disasters and misfortune. "Don't say that. I can too do this without black magic." With a flick of her wand, the room began to tidy itself up. "And I'd appreciate it if you don't mention such horrificious things in my house," she added tersely.

A small smile lingered over her husband's lips. She hunched her shoulders, hiding her shivers. It was baffling how he always remained so calm and serene in even the most trying of times. Whether he was mocking her or whether that was admiration in his eyes, she didn't know—men were another subject she could never truly figure out. She once thought she knew a lot of things about love, glory, success, but she was quite good at fooling others, including herself.

"You can try the Grimmerie."

A dark shadow cast over her face. "I can do this without that book." Most of the time, she thought he _was_ mocking her.

"Why don't you burn that thing if you loathe it so much?" he asked, grabbing an apple that had miraculously survived the explosion. He bit into it with a loud crunch.

"I don't… loathe it," she replied sour-faced.

"Yes, you do. From what you've told me, that book mutated Monkeys, made brooms fly on its own, hexed men into tin and assisted the former dictator of Munchkinland by giving her enchanted shoes. Why, that book could have been born in the hands of the Wicked Witch herself."

She dropped her hand gently to her side and the magic ceased around the room. She knew she couldn't be mad at him, or at least, she shouldn't be, because it was partly her fault. To him, Elphaba and the Wicked Witch were two completely different people. Everyone in Oz had been too swayed by the Wizard's outbursts and campaigns to bring down the Wicked, and no matter what she said or did, she couldn't undo it. And she couldn't risk her reputation and her promise to Elphie. Only she knew the truth about who was evil and who was good.

"I told you, the Wizard surrendered the Grimmerie," she said sternly. "He didn't leave voluntarily, he was overthrown."

"_Overthrown_? By whom?"

"By me!"

"For Oz's sake," he said, shaking his head. "I thought you dropped this crazy notion, years ago."

"It is not crazy!"

"Then how did I become Emperor?"

She held her tongue. It was true she had only told him a year after they were married about the Wizard's true reason for his departure (excluding the story about Elphaba). She told him that the Wizard was spying on Oz's citizens and cleansing the land of Animals, purposefully instilling fear and chaos and an enemy. And although her husband agreed the Wizard was truly a tyrant and believed Oz was better without him, he hardly considered the idea that Glinda the Good, the inexperienced Witch of the North, overthrew the most powerful being at the time.

He was patiently waiting for a reply. Both of them were too proud to admit defeat or even acquiesce to a mutual truce.

"Don't you remember, darling?" asked Glinda, raising her wand again to continue her enchantment. "Your uncle was sovereign before the Wizard took over and you are the only living heir." She could tell he had stopped listening. His eyes were locked on the wall behind her as if he was expecting an intruder. "What is it?" she asked.

"Unrest in the South," he said omnisciently. His premonitions came spontaneously. He never mastered the art to control them, but he somehow trained himself in a form of astral projection so he would be able to enter his visions as a ghost. "Come in."

There wasn't even the slightest rap on the door. Nonetheless, it creaked open and the King's advisor appeared, a bit older, more skilled, but not as intelligent. "I'm sorry for interrupting His and Her Highness—"

"Don't be so formal, Timolt, just tell me what compelled you to interrupt my moment with my beautiful wife?" Glinda couldn't keep her cheeks from flushing. She watched as the man at the doorway scratch the back of his neck. He cleared his throat.

"Governess Rowena of Quadling Country requests an appearance."

It was silent for a few seconds. "Fine," he said. "Send word that I will meet her for tea at her castle in one hour."

"Wouldn't it please your Highness if she traveled here?" asked Timolt, but his question was met with a hasty response.

"I said I will meet her there and I believe my word is final. You are dismissed." He didn't raise his voice, but the deep tremor in his tone was daunting. When his advisor's footsteps disappeared, he apologized. "I'd cut my leg off before I let that woman in our home. Now what were we arguing about?"

"I have a headache," she said. These migraines were real at first, but she found herself using them as excuses more and more. The cleaning enchantment had just worn off and the room was just about spotless. "I think I'll lie down for a bit."

"Would you like some company?" he asked.

"No." She forced a smile. "You have a meeting with Ro'."

"I'm beginning to think you married me because I'm royalty and not because you find me irresistible."

She turned around and placed her hand on the knob, her eyes glistening. "Don't be ridiculous, Liamn. You know I love you endlessly."

xoxoxo

_She's back…The Wicked Witch of the West!_

_You're daft! She's dead. Melted, what's left of her had seeped between the cracks of the land and down to the Unknown Depths. _

_She's risen! I've seen her flying on that broomstick of hers._

_You're sick! Don't listen to her, she's gone mad. _

_Fellow Ozians, this is a misunderstanding. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, the Wicked Witch of the West is indeed dead—_

_You lie! _

_My goodness. _

_You went to school with her, didn't you say?_

_That is an entirely different subject matter, dear—_

_Conspiracy!_

_Enough. I will not have you accuse your Empress of treason. This woman is sick. Take her to the sanatorium. _

The Great Time Dragon Clock floated above the Emerald City. While it has been nearly five years since its hands have moved from the seventh hour, the Dragon continued to roam Oz as it has been doing since before the Fairy Queen transformed these tracts of soil into fairy territory. Ozians across history have always had the comfort of looking up at the sky to find its guardian lurking above the mountains at the Vinkus or bathing in the lake at the Upperuplands of Gillikin Country. Only later did a powerful sorcerer enchant the Dragon with a clock as a favor to the Empress.

Since the Death of the Wicked, Oz has been relatively peaceful, possibly too peaceful, but no one could be blamed for their joy. After enduring the evil doings of the Thropp sisters (rights stripped from Munchkins and Animals as if they were second rate citizens, dark magic and fear everywhere), Ozians had reason to be over-joyous. And Glinda the Good encouraged the optimism. They didn't need to know that a different sort of tension replaced its former, one that was out of their control and a bit out of hers.

_Darling, is everything alright?_

_I feel faint._

_Now, don't complain about my driving. I've manned this Bubble for years now—_

_I see green. Who is that?_

She was sitting up in her bed. She must have been in this position for a while, breathing heavily, but she had just now awoken. It was just now she could see the shadows looming from behind the corners, just now she could hear the crickets humming outside her window and her husband softly snoring next to her. Only moments before had she seen and heard something vastly different. The dreams always revealed themselves that way, with scenic images, and strange voices that never matched what she was seeing. The Wicked Witch? A Time Dragon Clock? What could it be about this time?

"Elphie?" A body rose beside her, trying to study her expression in the dark.

"I'm okay," she said. "And, God, Isaac, don't call me that."

"Come on, it's cute," he said, slipping his hand around her arm.

She felt his lips on her neck, soft and loving. She laughed, ticklish at his touch. A shy moon peeked in the window, and in the light, she could see his eyes admiring her cream-colored skin. "You tease. It is not cute. I hated that nickname as a kid and I hate it now. I don't even remember where it came from." Honestly, she didn't. It must have been from the distant past, maybe from school as a little girl. Maybe some kid called her Elphie at the swings because of her long, thin face, prominent chin and nose. She supposed she looked kind of like an elf.

"Janice," he whispered.

"That's better."

"Another dream?"

These dreams weren't infrequent. They were weird and slightly scary because they seemed so real in her head. But, she knew they weren't true. Witches, Munchkins, some golden brick road and transportation via gigantic bubbles—she couldn't even fathom where she had gotten such a crazy imagination. "At least I'll have another chapter to tell Elena at bedtime tomorrow," she said, cheerfully. It sounded forced, however. At first she thought telling their seven-year-old stories of an Emerald City would be fun. As the dreams became more vivid and intricate, she found she'd rather read Elena Dr. Seuss. Unfortunately, their child had become too attached to the Good Witch of the North and the Wicked Witch of the West that no other fairytale would do.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She was never sure, but her answer was always the same. "Of course. Don't worry about me." This time, she couldn't even believe herself when she said it. The frown on her husband's face gave it away. He knew something was wrong, but that was as far as his knowledge went. There was no use dreading about these types of things, he reasoned, no use wasting your time _thinking_ about these things. But, she couldn't see it that way. There was a missing link, a life, a childhood she couldn't recall and because she couldn't remember, she couldn't let herself move forward.

The rut was ten years running. Job after job, she had gone from, with no satisfaction in any of them. Somehow, she kept finding herself doing a temp job as a history teacher in a nearby junior college. Perhaps, the more she dug into the past in general, the more she would be able to learn how to unravel her own mystery. Sadly, it was summer now, so she was momentarily unemployed. The only job she had at this instance was that of a stay-home mom.

"Let's go back to sleep," he said softly into her ear. She felt his gentle fingertips brush her long, black hair behind her ear and he kissed her on the cheek, warm and comforting. She let herself sink back into the blankets. I'll be okay, she reassured herself. Tomorrow she would worry about her daughter, the job, the laundry, the cooking, cleaning out the attic, the bills, calling the plumber to fix the garbage disposal and the OC Register printing anymore bad press about her small activist group. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

_The Emperor is not feeling well right now. Please hold all business and postpone all meetings until his recovery. Any pressing or dire news should be put in writing and the Empress will attend to it as soon as she can. _

_This is _her_ fault and I'd like to say it to her face!_

_Timolt, leave us. Thank you for your help, but I can handle it from here. Governor Bick, what concerns you?_

_It's Boq, for Oz's sake! Nearly fifteen years…_

_Sorry._

_You better do something about this… this… _

_About what? What's the matter?_

_The spells, your antidotes for the ancient curses. They're reversing. _


	2. Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

**_Author's Note: Thank you to those who are reading/following this story! I'm trying to get back into the groove of things and I have to admit, it's harder than from when I was doing Because You Are So Beautiful, but hopefully it'll all work out. Please review, good or bad (or indifferent! haha); it'll help me know how my story is truly faring. Thank you so much again. _**

**Chapter Two**

Long ago, the Land of Oz was met by two forces: one Terrible and one Wicked. Both vied for glory, both competed for attention. The citizens of Oz feared them both, but without supporting one, they knew their country would fall to chaos. Glinda the Good, although she wasn't comfortable with the Wizard's reign, couldn't bring herself to side with the Wicked Witch of the West. Not necessarily because she was wicked, but because she had betrayed her. She had to choose the lesser of two evils and it was much easier to blame the Wicked Witch than to stand against a tyrant.

It was a sad vision. The Wicked Witch had always admired the Good Witch, for her ability to persuade, the gift to make people believe whatever she wanted them to. But, she also realized that Glinda didn't have the courage to lose. She wondered how much her perky, little friend longed for the skies, for being on top, being able to fly. The Wicked had that. The Good tried everything in her control to manufacture that sensation, but it wasn't the same, the Wicked Witch was sure.

The pointed black hat tightened around her head and she felt its weight drop all the way to her shoulders. Her green skin was cloaked by the darkness. The wind pulled her cape behind her and for a moment she thought it would blow the rooftop she was standing on far away. She couldn't command the weather to do anything—that was a power way beyond her reach. Someone else was manipulating it, one of the Wizard's minions.

She saw something in the distance. She leaned over the rooftop's edge and narrowed her eyes. It was the little girl with the red shoes. The spell she had cast on the shoes was giving off this heat that she could feel even from miles away. Every time she cast a spell, she'd leave a little portion of herself to ensure eternalness, brand them with her mark. Those shoes _were_ rightfully hers. And she was going to get it back by any means necessary.

"Chistery." She beckoned the Monkey over with a crooked finger. He stretched out his wings and flew to her. He sat on the ledge, looking at her curiously. Her eyes were still following the little girl and her friends as they made their way to the castle. "After them."

Chistery rose to the sky and dozens more like him formed an army from behind. The Wicked Witch didn't even lift her head up, but she spoke softly and the wind delivered the message up to them. "And don't forget to give them what they deserve… ice-cream and lollipops."

_Mom!_

_Elphie…_

_What?_

_That's not how it goes!_

_Oh, it's not? _

_Next time we'll let you tell the story, Elena. Your mother keeps changing things. _

_Gosh, Mom, tell the story right!_

_But, this next part is so scary!_

_Mom…_

"Janice?"

The noise returned and the dream or vision or hallucination or whatever these things were wilted away. She was back at the university where other animal rights' activists like herself, most of them college students, were protesting and encouraging passersby to vote for Proposition 2. There were signs that read "Yes on Prop 2" and "No to Caged Hens"; a couple of disrespectful, uncreative freshmen were doing some name-calling and it was a shame their vocabulary didn't extend any further than "freak" and "animal lovers."

"You okay? You passed out for a bit." Michelle reached out a water bottle.

Janice took it gratefully. "It's the heat. Southern California is awful." She twisted the cap off and raised the bottle to her lips.

"Yeah, I guess we're all kind of used to it," said Michelle glancing over her shoulders to the others who were sweating, but still sticking it out. "How hot did it get where you used to live?"

The cold water sliding down her throat felt nice and she tried to savor it as much as she could. Also, she needed to buy time because, well, she wasn't really sure how to answer her question, as simple as it was. "I don't know."

"Where did you used to live?"

It was blank. It had always been blank. She could never remember anything about her past, only bits and pieces. She remembered a school dance and that wasn't a very happy memory because she saw faces laughing at her. She remembered loving History. That was about it. She could hardly even remember her best friend—all she could recall was that she was tiny and blonde. And her voice, so distinct, like a child's.

"You're all a bunch of stupid tree-huggers!" Her head shot up. A bunch of freshmen stood a few feet away from them on their skateboards. How on earth did these kids get admitted to a university? She could hardly stand it—just because these kids' probably had parents who were rich and powerful, they think they could push everyone around. Janice tried to stand but felt her head spin. Crap, she thought.

"You uninformed brat, you know nothing about Prop 2, do you?" barked Michelle. Thank God for her. It felt so much better knowing there were people on your side and just as willing and able to fight.

"All I know is that you shouldn't be hindering hardworking Americans from doing their job with your save the whales and forests crap," the kid said, flipping his skateboard.

"Oh, this kid's real bright," she muttered.

Janice decided to say something because, honestly, the boy's ignorance made her itch inside. She sat up on the pavement. "Kid, don't run your mouth, you're just going to make yourself look brainless. First of all, Prop 2 is about the way they treat animals before they're sent to get slaughtered. They cage hens and house animals so they can hardly move."

"Oh, boo-boo!"

"If they can't move, they get stressed and that stress compromises their immune systems," she pressed on. "You and all your friends eat these animals, we're protesting to make sure your sorry asses are sold healthy food!"

"Don't you cuss at me!" he shouted. "Get a real job!"

"You prick," interjected Michelle. "Get over here and say that to our faces."

Janice tugged at her friend's shorts. The heat, both from the sun and the argument, had made her feel weak. The perspiration was sticky and warm; her skin felt like it was burning. For a moment, she thought she was melting.

Michelle looked at her worriedly. "Hey, are you okay? You don't look like yourself." She suddenly turned around behind her. Janice buried her face in her hands. Oh God, please don't let him start anything. The boy they had been arguing with had just approached them and he was standing an inch away from Michelle's face, with a menacing stature neither of them had seen from a few feet away. He was a bit lanky, but tall, his eyes almost like ice. Michelle clenched her fists, trying not to shrink away.

"Move back," ordered Janice. She managed to stand up, although her knees wobbled and she felt safer on the ground. But, she wasn't going to let some ill-bred kid intimidate them. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"She called me over here," he said, motionless. "I'm here."

She pushed Michelle aside and took her place, unafraid. A smile formed on his lips and it were times like these that reminded her why she fought so passionately and so hard. If there weren't anyone to fight against the rich and the powerful, then the world would fall under their dictatorship.

She inhaled, slowly discovering some strength. Her eyes dug deep into his. He was so easy to read—every hidden wrinkle, the slightest twitch, the control of his breathing. She could see a piece of his soul and saw a generally good kid, just too proud and immature. And she thought she saw something else. His first few steps, a vision of him in high school, his friends and him skate boarding in front of the library. That was strange.

"Jan, get away from him, we don't want trouble," said Tobias, the head of their activist group. He tried to go between them, but the match was about even and neither of them would budge. Tobias put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, man, let this one go."

"Don't touch me!" the kid yelled. His reaction was quick and strong. He shoved their leader and, although Tobias was much bigger than him and hardly fell back, it set her off.

Everything happened before she could blink. Apparently, the kid initiating the fight didn't just set her off, but others as well. A punch was thrown in some direction, some yelling in the background. Someone called for security. But, this was happening out of her range. She never took her eyes off that kid, who didn't dare make the first move. Anger seethed inside her, but she couldn't even lift a finger.

She didn't have to. The confidence in his eyes faltered. His body collapsed to the floor and he started to convulse. She watched as his arms and legs shook violently, uncontrollably. The pavement scraped his skin, his mouth began to foam and it wasn't until she heard a loud crack that she snapped out of her stupor.

"Let's get out of here," said Michelle, pulling her away. A riot had broken loose and the cops had come. She could see a couple of activists a head's start away.

"I just… I can't just leave him—"

"Jan, come on. I heard Tobias had trouble with… just, come on!"

"Trouble? What trouble?"

"With getting a permit."

xoxoxo

It was interesting. The bars of the holding cell were carved with different letters, initials, rusted red. She didn't know why she was separated from the fourteen others they had arrested at the school. Two hours had passed and she was exhausted. She had been trying to pry away any sort of information from anyone at the precinct house, where her friends were, why they were arrested and where her damn phone call was. No one listened. She wasn't the least bit scared. As a matter of fact, she was more annoyed than anything else.

"You lose your voice to nag us some more?" She looked up and saw the Captain, a man with gray hair and a calm expression, standing in front of her on the other side of the cell.

"Ron, let me out," she said tiredly.

"You know, you're not making your husband look too good right now," he said quietly. "He's one of my most promising detectives. He means a lot to the family, here at the station and at home."

"You have no reason to hold me," she said. "You know our group, we follow the rules."

"Two kids hospitalized. One of your men can throw one hell of a punch."

"Okay, arrest the punk. I never liked him anyway. But, why arrest the rest of us?"

"You were involved with a potentially dangerous protest without police escort."

She just about threw her head back and cackled. "We were encouraging people to buy eggs from non-caged hens! Captain, this is ridiculous! I'm going to be laughing at your squad when I read it in the paper tomorrow."

"How did he get away with not having a permit?"

"I don't know!" She pressed her forehead against the metal, her gripping the bars until she felt it sinking into her skin. "I thought he got the permit. I would have kicked his ass if I knew." She raised her eyes to him. "Ron. You know me. I was there at your son's graduation. Don't treat me like a hardened criminal."

He raised his brow and he adjusted his posture, his shoulders rising and falling. He turned around and began to walk slowly away. "I'm not." She watched as he opened the door to his office. He called for someone and Isaac appeared. He jogged to her and his hands met hers, slowly loosening its grasp on the bars and clinging on to his skin. His soft hazel eyes were green in the lack of light. They reminded her of something from her past, maybe… she wasn't sure. But, she felt nostalgic every time she looked into them.

"You okay?" he asked.

"How's the kid?" She had almost forgotten about him. She felt guilty, as if what had happened to him was all her fault.

"He's getting his stomach pumped," he said, frowning. "He had a seizure. Drug overdose. They're keeping him until he's stable; his parents are on their way to the hospital."

"God, it's my fault."

"This isn't your fault."

"I got mad and–"

"And what? You made him go into a seizure? Come on, Elphie, you and I both know that's insane."

"Maybe you're right." Not necessarily that she had caused this to happen, but the idea that she was insane seemed very plausible. Even so, she still felt like she had brought it upon that kid. She knew it was crazy—science couldn't prove that psyching a person out into having a seizure. It was preposterous. Maybe.

"Isaac?"

"Yeah?"

"Get me out of here."

xoxoxo

"Don't leave me!"

"Darling, let go."

"My love, stay with me. I am gravely ill."

"You had a premonition 3,000 feet in the air. You got woozy." She yanked the skirt of her dress from the Emperor's hands. Men, she swore, they could be such babies. She straightened the lace and the ribbons, the fabric. She stole a glance from the full length mirror across the room. She learned to cherish her reflection in the few seconds she was given throughout the day because often she wasn't able to set a couple of hours aside just to stare at herself. Her husband waved his hand from behind as she was admiring her beauty.

"I need Glinda's legendary remedies," he said, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"The physician says you'll be fine," she said. "The only remedy you need is rest. Now unless you're having an important vision, I have business to attend to."

"Wait! I see something…"

"Oh do you?"

"Yes… just give me a moment… you know, to make sense of it."

"Darling, can you hurry, dire business, emergency, possible deaths?"

"Right. I see… I see… a white Maltese puppy? That's not right."

She huffed and opened the door. She told her ladies-in-waiting to fetch her Bubble. "Now you're just making things up."

"Perhaps I am. What in Oz is a Maltese puppy?"

She looked back once more and thank goodness his eyes were drooping into what she hoped was going to be a nice, long slumber. The poor dear needed the relaxation. The times he was with her were the only times she saw him smile; they were the only times she saw him not take things so seriously, even though most of the time he was teasing her. She didn't like seeing him with that stone-cold face at the Meetings with the Governors, that expressionless, yet somewhat reassuring face when addressing the rest of the Oz.

A rehabilitation center for Animals was built shortly after the Wizard's departure down at Quadling Country. Every Animal who had lost their tongue was sent to the facility in order to restore their speech: lessons in vocalizations, pronunciation and elocution were offered every day. It was a success for the most part. Many were able to reenter the community and regain normal lives. Unfortunately, there were few that had permanently been damaged and remained in the facility to this day, deemed as "animals." And then there were those that were recovering very, very slowly.

The Bubble lowered itself to the ground in front of the rehabilitation center. There was an emerald carpet rolled out and gold shimmering like an aura around the entrance. It was a funny sight, an ironic one, she supposed, as the place was always sad and one that she never enjoyed visiting. She walked down the thick carpet, feeling her heels sinking in. Those who resided in the hospital and various other Quadling residents bowed from the sides. Even the Governess of Quadling Country, who Glinda now approached, curtsied in her presence.

"Rise, Rowena," said Glinda, smiling. "You need not bow."

"I was just admiring your feet, they're quite small," she said, rising. "How is the Emperor?" Her caramel-colored hair was almost like silk, smooth and woven in five long braids behind her. She had fair skin and the most interesting pair of eyes, a shade of olives.

"He is resting," the Good Witch replied.

"Or dying?"

"Please, 'Ro, now is not the time for your twisted sense of humor."

"I saw him yesterday; he seemed quite healthy."

"Well, it's tomorrow, isn't it?" The Good Witch followed the Governess into the facility, which felt very warm and welcoming. If she had lived there, she would rather much stay indoors than to hang around the dreariness of the Quadling country, always so gray and cloudy.

"Can you tell me anything?" Glinda asked as she followed Rowena in a secluded area all the way in the back. The atmosphere changed and the walls grew bleaker, the halls narrower. It frightened her a bit.

"One of the Monkeys—Chistery—well," she said pausing. "He was doing so well, his conversations began to become a little more articulate each day…"

"So, what's happened?"

"His wings began to grow back. And he's in terrible pain." Rowena held a star-shaped necklace in front of the keyhole. A flash of violet appeared. She slipped a hand around the knob and looked at her superior. "I hope you didn't give your poor husband any of your remedies because from what you're about to see, he could be in great danger."


	3. Glinda is a Maltese Puppy

**_Author's Note: Thanks again to those who've been following the story! As I've mentioned, I take criticism to heart and I'm always looking for any sort of feedback to help me improve. Someone mentioned something about pacing, especially from Janice's POV and I have to say I agree. With that in mind, we've finally reached the last chapter Janice will be in the modern world (my apologies for the delay!) and hopefully everything will be quicker in pace now. There are a lot of twists coming forth so I hope you enjoy! And please continue to review!_**

**Chapter Three**

"Play with me, Mommy!"

"Not now, honey, Mommy's busy," said Janice, tying the top of the garbage bag into a knot. She had been up since 7a.m. cleaning out every closet in the house and now the living room was cluttered with moth-eaten shirts, jeans too tight and jackets with sleeves too short. She couldn't believe she owned about 20 pairs of shoes, none of which she was particularly fond of. And for some reason, she hadn't the heart to give them away or throw them out.

"Mommy, let's play hide-and-seek! I'll go hide and you come find me! Mommy?"

"Elena, why don't you play with your new puppy?" she had to say that through gritted teeth. The day she came home from the police station, she had discovered a tiny, white furry animal running around their house, barking like crazy. Evidently, in an attempt to keep their daughter quiet (and clandestinely win her heart by buying her whatever she wanted), Isaac had purchased a 3-month-old puppy from the local pet shop for God only knows how much. It was beyond the point that Husband did not consult Wife about this nor had the possibility ever been discussed, beyond the point that Janice knew _she_ was going to be the one taking care of the puppy. It was just that merely staring at the mutt made her sick.

"I'll be home for dinner," said Isaac, coming out of the hallway.

"Remember, you have to move that stuff into the attic," she said, hauling the plastic bag onto the sofa. "I'll do what I can, but I'm already exhausted."

"Don't even worry about it," he said, opening the door. "Elena, come kiss Daddy goodbye!"

Their daughter slipped the cookie she had bitten into back into the jar and sprinted to her father. She was almost engulfed by his embrace, lost in his arms where she was safe and warm. Janice knew that feeling. Isaac always knew how to make her feel safe. "Wait, you have to say goodbye to Glinda!" she squeaked.

"Alright, go get her," he said, letting her go. "Hurry, now." When she disappeared into the hallway, he turned to Janice. "I can't believe she named the dog after the character in your story."

"I can't believe you bought a dog without consulting me," she said, half-laughing. She couldn't let it go. If she thought it wouldn't have hurt her daughter in any way, she would have set the animal free.

"I'm sorry you're not a dog person—"

"Isaac, it's not even that, it's just…" she sighed, dropping to her knees and beginning to sort out the rest of the clothing. "You know how I feel about owning pets."

"Elena loves the puppy," he said.

"I can see that," she said plainly. "I just… don't like the idea of domestic animals. I don't like zoos, I don't like seeing animals caged up, I don't like the idea of owning pets. Like they're kept prisoners."

"The dog seems rather happy."

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "I think it's kind of sad." Before Isaac could respond, Elena came back carrying the white Maltese over her shoulder. Its pink tongue hung out and it gnawed on Isaac's fingers as he tried to pet it. All Janice could think of was the extra chore of running around the house after a puppy she would rather set free with all the other strays. The next time she looked up, Isaac had left and Elena was standing in the middle of the room and the dog gone.

"Honey, where's your puppy? Don't you want to play with her?" she asked.

"She's hiding. She's playing hide-and-seek."

"Well, why don't you go find her?"

"_I_ want to hide and I want _you_ to look for us," she said, pleadingly. "Please, Mommy?"

Janice sighed, stretching her legs on the floor. She knew her daughter was like her in that way, persistent and stubborn. She gave in, hoping that maybe if she played with her for half an hour or so, Elena would let her get back to work for the rest of the day. Not that she particularly enjoyed cleaning, but it was the only thing at the moment that made her feel productive. Sitting against the sofa and setting her chin on top of the seat, she covered her eyes with her arms folded in front of her. She began to count backwards, from twenty to one. When she opened her eyes, the house was quiet.

"Ready or not, here I come!" she called. She scanned the room for a shadow or a curtain swaying in the lack of wind. She had hoped her daughter would make it easy and start giggling. But, the house was eerily calm.

There wasn't a soul in the living room or the kitchen, so she started looking in the bedrooms. She checked inside every closet, under the bed, behind the dresser and any other place her daughter could have crawled into. Even when she checked inside the clothes hamper she came up empty. Ten minutes in and she found the puppy chewing on a pair of red shoes she never wore.

"Hey, stop it… you…. dog," she said uncertainly. It was strange addressing a dog like that, like she was some sort of master over these poor things. She figured if her daughter gave the pup a name, she might as well use it. "Hey, Glinda, do you know where Elena is? Can you help me find her?"

The Maltese just stared back and crouched down in a pouncing position as if she was waiting for Janice to attack. The dog was smiling, she could tell that much, although it had a slight overbite and it was practically drooling all over the floor. I'm on my own, thought Janice, sighing. She walked back into the living room, wondering where else her daughter could be. She couldn't have gone outside, I would have heard it for sure, she thought despairingly. Where could she be?

She glanced at the mess and exhaled loudly. She was never going to get any work done. Pulling her hair back, she looked around.

"Weird," she murmured. The old grandfather clock had frozen at three minutes past nine. The pendulum had stopped swinging—its position was tilted leftward. It was true that the old clock was always five minutes behind, sometimes half an hour, sometimes two hours. It never could make up its mind. And when the ding-dongs did decide to ring, it sent chills down her spine. She never liked the antique, but she always kept it as a memento from her past. At least, she supposed it was from her past, maybe from her great grandmother or, at the very least, her father.

"Elena, you can come out now! I give up!" There wasn't single sound. "Please, sweetie, Mommy will give you a big cookie if you come out!" Still nothing. Was she really alone in this house? "Come on, Elena… I'll, uh… take you to Disneyland!"

The phone rang and she jumped back, startled. She didn't realize how anxious she was until she picked up the receiver and found her fingers trembling. "Hello?"

"Elphie, I forgot to tell you to…" Isaac's voice faded. Whether it was bad reception or something else, she really couldn't tell. The room began to slowly sink into a hole in the middle of the carpet and she swore she could feel her legs giving way with it. She was positive this was some sort of hallucination. Why was her mind working against her? She knew dreams weren't real, walls couldn't whisper, grandfather clocks couldn't mock her, houses couldn't fly and rooms could not sink into black holes.

"Wh-what?" she asked, because she was sure he was saying something important.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Isaac… I think Elena's missing. God, I—"

"You've looked everywhere for her?" His voice quickly changed. It was calm, but urgent.

"She's not in the house. We were playing a game—"

"I'm turning back," he said. "Elphie, calm down, I know you're worried." And she was. She had always been quite careful with her child, making sure she didn't stray too far away at the park, making sure she always held her hand at the mall and making sure she didn't lose her at the grocery store. It was the first time Janice didn't know exactly where she was and it frightened her.

"She probably hid some place and now she's stuck and needs help and she can't…" every possible thing that could have happened to Elena ran through her mind. She had closed her eyes for twenty seconds. How could she have lost her so easily?

"I'm on my way. We'll find her. Why don't you check outside, see if any of the neighbors has seen her running around?"

"Okay, okay," she repeated, "okay, I'll do that." She hung up the phone, leapt across the black hole and darted out the door.

It was just as she suspected. Nothing. She didn't even have to scan the neighborhood twice to know that Elena wasn't anywhere here. Call it mother's intuition or another power of its own. She knew her daughter was gone. Everyone else was either at school or inside the house eating breakfast, leaving the scene outside vacant and lifeless. When she did see the occasional persons walking their dog, she didn't hesitate to ask if they had seen a small girl with long, dark hair, hazel eyes and freckles around her cheeks. She was an odd looking child; she couldn't have been hard to miss.

No, I'm so sorry, we haven't seen her, they all would say with a worried frown. She was about to call her husband again when his car pulled into the driveway. He hurried out and met her with a long embrace. All she wanted to do now was apologize over and over.

"Come on, you did the best you could," he said reassuringly.

"Stop ridiculing me."

"I didn't mean it that way." He let go of her and ran into the house. She followed close behind, but she wasn't sure where else he could look that she hadn't already checked. She stood in the middle of the living room. So strange. The black hole had disappeared and the room was no longer spinning. The hands on the grandfather clock began to move again and the pendulum swung back and forth. Was she going mad? She brought her hand to her forehead. She had to do something about these hallucinations. If she knew anything about her past, perhaps she would know if her family had a history of mental illnesses…

"Elphie?" Isaac's head appeared from the hallway.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Come here."

She walked into the hall and Isaac escorted her into Elena's bedroom. The walls were painted sky blue with white clouds near her bed. A couple of the clouds held photos they had taken throughout the years. The others were for her to color and write in whatever she pleased. They had always figured that coloring on walls was one of any child's big milestones so setting aside some space for her seemed sensible.

"I made that bed when she woke up," she said curiously. The pillows were now hanging off the edge, the blankets twirled and lumpy as if someone had just slept in it… or as if someone was currently sleeping in it…

"She must have gotten tired of you taking so long to find her," whispered Isaac, with a cough. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or let out a sigh of relief. She put a hand on his arm then slowly crept to her daughter's bed.

There she was, peacefully sleeping. Janice just wanted to grab her and give her the biggest hug, tell her how much she loved her and to tell her that wherever she hid, she never wanted her to hide there again. She watched Elena softly breathing, her nose twitching just slightly. Her eyes slowly fluttered and she rolled on her back to meet her mother's gaze.

"Mommy," she said, smiling. "Mommy, I went to Oz and I saw Munchkins."

Janice could feel her own heart beating against her chest. Her daughter had been here all along. She just missed her. She had only checked her room once or twice, she _must_ have missed her. "You mean you dreamt of going to Oz and saw Munchkins?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "I went to Oz. Look." She took out her little arm from beneath the covers and pulled the sleeve of her pajama shirt up. Janice gasped, covered her mouth and looked over to Isaac. Their daughter's arm was covered in green spots.

"Honey… honey, are you… does it hurt?" she stammered, carefully touching Elena's arm and examining the unusual bruises. She could sense Isaac looking over her, just as perplexed as she was.

"It doesn't hurt," their daughter said pulling her arm back away. For some reason, she was feeling self-conscious. "I'm the Wicked Witch."

"It probably washes right off," said Isaac from behind. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the end with his tongue. He tried to wipe the green off her skin, but it wouldn't erase. "Curse you, Magic Marker."

"Isaac, what are we going to do?" she asked softly. She felt her daughter's forehead for any sign of sickness. She never had to defer in her husband for advice. Usually, these kinds of matters came naturally to her and being in control was a characteristic she admired of herself. Apparently, something has caught her off guard.

"Take her to the doctor's," he answered simply. "I'm sure it's just something she ate."

"What could she have possibly eaten to make her skin turn green?"

"Grass?"

"Not funny. Our child could have leprosy."

xoxoxo

It wasn't leprosy, the doctor had said. Although, looking back on it, she kind of hoped it was leprosy. It was slightly better (but only slightly) than not knowing what the ailment was at all. She couldn't figure out why the doctor was so damn relaxed—ten dollars for a gigantic lollipop and a slip directing her to a Dr. Morgan, a dermatologist. He didn't even break a sweat. That was what they called a hard day's work, huh?

She knew she was just bitter. And worried. A bit paranoid, as well. Her husband was able to sleep, no problem. So why was she wide awake?

The silence was interrupted by the grandfather clock dinging in the background. She always counted each ding, something she hoped she had done as a child. _Ding-dong. _One. _Ding-dong_. Two. _Ding-dong. _Three. _Ding—_

It was quiet again. Three and a half? Where did the dong go? She slipped out from underneath the sheets, trying not to wake Isaac up. The clock probably just froze as it did this morning, but any bizarre reason would do if it meant getting her out of bed. She tiptoed to the living room. For once, she felt like a stranger in her own home.

The grandfather clock had undeniably died again, the piece of junk, Janice thought. Maybe it was best if they store the old thing up in the attic. The wooden door was ajar and she couldn't remember if she had even touched the thing today.

"Elena," she sighed to herself. She probably was playing around with the pendulum (even though Janice had told her that the clock wasn't a toy). There was a carving along the door that she had never really noticed before—it was so faint and so small, she had probably seen it a thousand times, but never thought twice about it. If she had to guess, it looked kind of like a piece of a dragon's tail.

The rest of the drawing was on the other side of the door. She pulled the knob and saw the dragon staring back at her, the carving much more vivid now. Beneath the pendulum was something light, small and circular. It was probably a piece that fell off its chain or… something. She reached out for it and gasped. She pulled her hand back.

Something tugged at her. It wasn't an animal or anything like that, she would have known if it was anything like that. For a moment, she had felt her whole arm being pulled, like by the black hole in the middle of her living room that was sucking all her furniture down.

"You've lost it," she told herself. "Really, check yourself into a mental hospital." Inhaling a deep breath and finding some courage, she (nonetheless, bracing herself) reached out once more. This time, whatever it was holding on to her arm didn't hesitate. It dragged her in and she was falling, heavy and fast. Her eyes were closed so for the longest time she saw black. She only peeked once and when she did, she swore saw a rainbow.

She met the ground with a hard thud. Her body ached, her shoulders especially, and when she tried to stand, her arms and legs would wobble and give way. The pain felt so real. Did this mean she wasn't dreaming?

She gave up and remained on the ground, panting. A woman with soft, light hair looked down at her, her eyes curious.

"Madame, kindly get off my property or I will feed you to the Munchkins."


	4. My Psychopharmocologist and I

**_Author's Note: Hi everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend and I'd like you thank you all for keeping up. Now that she's in Oz, the plot's going to go a lot faster (I hope) and become more complicated. Any comments, feedback, suggestions are encouraged! Thank you again._**

**Chapter Four **

She didn't know why, even as Glinda the Good (even as the Empress of Oz!), she seemed to regularly find herself apprehended by her own Guards. This time it was because they wouldn't allow her to travel to the sanatorium where the old lady claiming she had seen the Wicked Witch from days earlier was staying. There were now rumors that the woman had seen a child with green skin and even though she knew it wasn't possible, she was curious nonetheless.

"Let me through!" she demanded. She hadn't even left the castle and already she was cornered in the dining room. Regrettably, she wasn't tiny enough to slip past three burly Guards.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but you are not permitted to leave the palace grounds," said one of the cadets.

"I will leave whenever I please," she said, angrily gripping her wand.

"Our… our orders are to keep you indoors, Miss… Your Highness," another stuttered.

"Whose orders? The Emperor's?" she asked, smiling a bit too sweetly. She advanced toward them, her heels clicking slowly, as if what was approaching was their worst fear. "You are going to so thoughtfully let me through and bow until I've left the City before running to your Emperor, just to make sure you buy me enough time."

The way she said it made it seem like it was a charming request, but the Guards almost recoiled in her presence. There was something a bit startling in her tone, but they couldn't say she was wicked or mean. On the contrary, they couldn't blame her for wanting to get out of the house. She wanted to breathe the fresh air and they were holding her hostage in her own home.

"Your Highness, forgive us," one said, kneeling. The others followed. "But, our Emperor's word supersedes any ruling of yours." His voice cracked as he finished his sentence. She was about to reply tartly when another person entered the room.

"That was very brave of you, Oduin. Even _I _wouldn't have had the stomach to do what you just did. Bravo." The Emperor walked over to their group, his long robes trailing behind him. Glinda tried to avoid his eye contact. She had been patient about some of her husband's decisions regarding old laws and new rulings, but now he was just pushing her buttons. She was no longer a puppet whose strings needed to be pulled by the Wizard or Morrible. Who was he to order the Gale Force to detain her?

"Go on and prepare your Empress's Bubble," ordered the Emperor. He was gentle and calm as a father would be to his children. The Guards lifted their heads apprehensively and looked at each other.

"Your Highness…?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, please," he said impatiently. And since no one would dare upset the Emperor, they scurried away until it was just him and his wife standing in the middle of the room. She knew he wanted to give her the courtesy of having the first say, but she kept her lips pursed. He wasn't going to pull this "I'm so kind" act with her—_she_ invented that.

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her to speak. She used her wand to steady her weight like a cane and tapped her foot anxiously. She didn't realize how hard it was to stay quiet.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well, what?" she asked, pretending to be clueless.

He didn't respond right away. Instead he shifted uncomfortably. His eyes dropped to the ground and she almost felt sorry. When he lifted his head, their eyes met and he raised a hand to her cheek. She felt his fingertips caress the side of her face, warm on her skin. There were butterflies fluttering inside her and her skin tingled just a bit; she couldn't figure out how he was always able to do that to her, every time, no matter the circumstance.

"Darling, you're stunning in everything you wear, but I must say, apathy is a terrible color on you," he said softly.

She tried not to lose focus. She was angry, after all, although the feeling had subsided somewhat. "Liamn, what's the meaning of this? I am not to be told what to do."

"It was a precaution," he answered plainly. "I knew you'd flee to the sanatorium as soon as you heard the rumors."

"Of course you knew." She began to pace across the room. "Why keep me from the sanatorium? What imminent danger lies there?"

The Emperor hadn't moved from his spot, but continued to watch Glinda back and forth around the room. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure or you won't tell me?" She placed herself a couple of feet in front of him, her fingers gripping her wand, always at the ready. "I know you keep secrets from me. I suspect the burden must be heavy, seeing the future and knowing our fates, and being disappointed because sometimes they're nothing like we thought they would be."

"Glinda—"

"You can tell me, Liamn. You can tell me and I'll share the burden with you." Her eyes were earnest, desperate. Even under her beauty were fine wrinkles she had developed over the years, under the stress.

Usually, the Emperor was clever, quick-witted, but now he was struggling for words. He sighed. "I often don't like what I see. I can't control these visions, they just arrive and I do all I can to prevent anything bad from happening, but…" He paused, reconsidering. There was apology in his eyes and remorse. "You will have to trust me."

"Blindly?"

"Unfortunately. Glinda, it'll be alright."

"You're lying to me."

"I'm trying to be encouraging," he said. She cringed at his words, which used to be her words long ago. "Why do you want to see this woman anyway?" he asked inquisitively.

"I just want to talk with her," she said, biting her lip. They both knew it wasn't a very good reason. But, it was mainly the truth. No one in Oz ever spared more than a few words about the Wicked Witch because doing so would always bring back horrible memories. Surely this woman must have seen something? She just wanted to know for sure.

"You don't think the Wicked Witch really has risen from the dead, do you?" he exclaimed.

"No, that's impossible," she replied bitterly. Indeed she saw her melting with her very own eyes. "But, maybe she left… a child? A relative? I don't know!" She was taking wild guesses and under her husband's suspicious eyes she felt herself reddening. Although she wouldn't know what to do with herself if Elphaba in fact did leave a child… knowing that it had to be Fiyero's as well.

"Let's say she did," he said. "What interest would you have in her?"

She wasn't sure what he was implying, but she didn't like it. "Nothing. Well… maybe we could help her or something…"

"You've gone mad. Glinda," he said grabbing her shoulders. He looked at her seriously. "What is this about, really? Sometimes I feel _you're_ keeping secrets from me." She shrank and frowned. There was guilt in her heart and a little bit of fear because whenever he gazed at her that way, she felt as if he was reading her mind. He released her slowly and straightened his carriage. "The Wicked Witch was powerful," he said. "And she may have been able to do many things. But, you can't go on a witch hunt just because you think she has an heir. You would be putting all of Oz in danger, including yourself. And I'd rather not lose you now."

He turned and started to walk away. "Whatever you think she can give you, ask yourself if it's worth it."

"There is nothing I want."

"Oh? You've gone through 500 trials of that potion. As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures." Before he left her alone, he added, "Your Bubble awaits. I hope you're back for supper."

xoxoxo

She pounded the door. Her hand started turning red, her fingernails worn out from scratching at the wood. She wasn't supposed to be here. After that woman, who happened to be some sort of Governess, found her lying on her grass, Janice freaked. Did anyone in this hallucination know where she was and where her daughter was?

"One of yours fell out of the sky and landed on my property," the Governess had said when they had arrived at the sanatorium. "Deal with her, please."

"She's not one of ours, Madame, but we'll gladly take her off your hands. Bann, lodge this one with Mai'galen, will you? Such a shame, she's such a pretty little thing."

Janice would have accepted the fact that she was being admitted to an asylum in a place she was unfamiliar with if it weren't for one thing: The head of the asylum was four feet tall.

Now, she was locked in a windowless room with an odd woman who was humming foreign lullabies in the corner. There were two cots, a sink and a hole in the ground. They weren't running an asylum. They were running a prison.

The slot on the door slid open and a watchman appeared on the other side. He had a moustache that curved along his lips as he scowled. "Ma'am, can you please keep quiet? You're causing a commotion."

"I don't belong here!"

"Me either," he answered. "D'you know that I was supposed to be 'mong the top ranks of the Gale Force? But, I reckon me boss thought I be better suited handling crazy people."

_Gale Force? _"Where am I?" she asked aloud.

"Whew, you really are crazy," he said with a laugh. "You're at the border of Vinkus, o' course. Now, please, no more noise from you? Or I'll have to charm your mouth shut like I did with Mai'galen." He pointed at the old woman who was now standing in the middle of the room. "Y'know, you pair are a match made in Oz. Both screamin' about losing your daughters and such…" He left, trailing off. Janice waited until his voice disappeared.

"I'm in Oz? How is that possible?" Oz was a fairytale land she made up; it wasn't real. The notion that her dreams were beginning to meld with reality scared her. This is just a hallucination, she tried to convince herself. Nothing that a few pills couldn't fix. The woman was now staring at her, fascinated by her distress.

"Ma'am?" Janice drew closer and looked at the woman carefully. She was about a head shorter, her body stout and roundish. She had ocean-colored eyes, almost hollow, and long, curly hair. "Do you know where I am? Am I in Oz?" She stopped herself, remembering who she was talking to. The old woman, nevertheless, nodded her head. Alright, Janice, she thought, you going to take _her_ word for it?

Then again this asylum was a bit of a joke. This woman might not be completely crazy. She could be seeing things, as Janice saw things, but still be fairly rational. The woman pulled the cuff of her sleeve and pointed at the words tattooed on her wrist.

"Mai'galen. Like May…Gullen?" she asked. The woman nodded then pointed at Janice. She wanted to know her name.

"Elphie," she responded. That was the name she had given to the head of the asylum. She was disinclined to use her real name for some reason. It didn't matter, Isaac would know if any effort to find her relatives were taken. "The watchman said your daughter was missing?"

Mai'galen's eyes filled with tears. Janice suddenly felt her heart break. This woman really was missing her child. She couldn't possibly fake that heartache, and here she was, here they both were, trapped like animals.

"My daughter is missing, too," said Janice, trying to be brave. She was going to have to play with this idea that they were in fact in Oz if she wanted to survive. "I promise you we'll find them." She placed a hand on Mai'galen's shoulder and smiled. It was an empty promise, but it reassured them both.

Janice had to sit down; she still felt sore. The cot wasn't terribly bad. It was small and there were lumps, but it was soft. Mai'galen couldn't keep still, however. She paced around the room, making grunting sounds. The charm must have been wearing off.

"My Elena, she has dark hair like me," said Janice. Mai'galen paused to look at her. "She has my chin, unfortunately. Her eyes are hazel, like her father's. What about yours? What does your daughter look like?"

The woman ignored her and sat on the edge of her bed. She took out a small jewelry box from beneath her bed and fiddled with the lock. When she gave up, she held it against her chest. Janice moved to sit next to her and tried to be comforting. "Does she have lovely blue eyes, like you?"

The tension receded and the woman looked up. She pointed at Janice's eyes. "She has dark eyes, like me?"

The woman nodded her head. She then pointed at her own hair.

"And curly locks, like yours?"

She shook her head. Janice almost jumped back when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her grasp was surprisingly strong. "Um, black hair, like me?"

She shook her head again and ran her fingers down at its length. "Long?" asked Janice. "Dark hair?" The woman shrugged. She would take that as a yes.

Janice took a breath and scooted back a bit. "So, she has dark eyes, dark hair… anything else?"

Mai'galen hesitated. Slowly, she slipped her hand underneath her pillow. She took out a small bottle which was filled halfway with green liquid. Janice was confused for a second. What was she going to do?

The woman pointed at the bottle then pointed at Janice. Did she want her to drink it? The woman wrapped her fingers around Janice's arm and held it up. She traced a vein along her pale skin.

"I…I don't understand," said Janice uneasily. The woman squeezed, but quickly loosened her grip. She grumbled and kept pointing at Janice's arm. "Um, arm, skin—" Mai'galen nodded enthusiastically. She raised the bottle.

Janice looked at her timidly. She couldn't possible mean that. "Your daughter has… green skin?" The woman sighed, and nodded slowly.

Alright, maybe this woman was just a little crazy. Mai'galen continued to hold her jewelry box. She caressed the engravings and looked at it longingly. Janice reached over and touched the lock gently.

"Did you lose the key?" she asked. Like magic, the box popped open. The woman's eyes grew large and she turned her head to Janice, agape. What just happened? Janice gulped. _She_ couldn't have done that.

"Mai'galen, you have a visitor," called the watchman from across the room. The door opened slowly and the pair of roommates stood up. A small woman in pink strode in, the skirt of her dress shaped like an umbrella, her crown sitting tall atop her curly, blonde hair. When Janice realized that was in fact a wand in the small woman's hand, Mai'galen was already on the floor, bowing.

"You will bow in front of the Empress," said the watchman sternly.

"The Empress?" Janice tried not to laugh. It was her sick sense of humor kicking in, but this woman looked like she was twelve and she was dressed ridiculously, even for Halloween.

"Don't be in contempt—"

"Now, now, she's not in her right mind," said the Empress lightly. "Up, up… Mai'galen, is it? You are sweet and not at all the daft old woman from earlier this week. Have a seat, all of you. Well, not you, Sir, you may go." He looked at her, surprised. It seemed the watchman didn't want to leave. "We'll be alright, go on." And with that dismissal, he walked out, stealing a glance over his shoulder before closing the door.

"I'm sorry… Your Highness." Janice had to force herself to say it. "Are you really the Empress of Oz?"

The Empress laughed in a high-pitched, child-like tone. She sounded so familiar to Janice. The tiny lady straightened out her skirt and sat beside Mai'galen. "Of course I am. You amuse me, I don't think I'll be too worried if you sit in on our conversation," she said nodding to the old woman, who smiled. The Empress returned it and directed her attention back to Janice. "What is your name?"

"Elphie," she replied.

The Empress was quiet. "I beg your pardon?"


	5. Get Me Out of This Damn Bubble

**_Author's Note: Hey ya'll! How was your weekend? Mine... wasn't long enough haha. But, I wanted to plug in a couple of comics I keep up with and if you're interested in online comics and the fantasy genre, you'll love these: No Rest For the Wicked and Gunnerkrigg's Court. Anyway, google them if you're interested! If not, hope you enjoy the next chapter! Reviews would be love!_**

**Chapter Five**

Glinda shifted in her seat, which was difficult to do, seeing as the skirt of her dress took up half the edge of the bed. It was then she realized there were no windows in the room and hardly any light as well. No wonder they look so miserable, she thought.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said your name was Elphie," she said, filling the silence. She chuckled a bit. Clearly, this was mere coincidence. No one but her called Elphaba "Elphie" and the only other people who even knew about the nickname were Nessarose and Fiyero.

"You weren't mistaken," said the dark-haired woman. "That's what I'm called."

There was something unsettling in the air, Glinda could feel it. Was _she_ going mad? This was probably what her husband was trying to warn her about. She knew the woman across from her couldn't be… she just couldn't. She didn't have her skin, that green complexion that had branded her wicked and different. And even if she indulged for one tick-tock that this woman could be Elphaba, she wouldn't be able to make sense of her melting, her death.

"It is freezing in here," said Glinda. "You poor dears have no natural sunlight and I don't even want to know what that hole in the ground is used for. These conditions are deplorable. How do you stand it?" She looked at Mai'galen for an answer because it was quite hard at the moment to look at…Elphie.

"Mmm grrr," murmured Mai'galen.

"Pardon?"

"There's a, um… some sort of charm." Elphie seemed to have trouble articulating her thoughts. It was almost as if she knew very little about charms and sorcery. Perhaps she knew once upon a time. "The watchman hexed her mouth shut."

"My goodness," said the Empress. "As much as I love hearing myself speak, I can't have this conversation one-sided." She stood up and the others followed respectfully. She strolled to the door and knocked. "Guards!"

She stepped back and the door creaked open. The watchman appeared a bit disheveled, as if he had to run across the country to get there. "Is there anything wrong, Your Highness?"

"Try everything," she said curtly. "You are paid to treat and supervise these patients. You do not take away their right to speak."

"A thousand pardons, Your Highness, but this is the way it's always been done—"

"You mean, since the Wizard's reign?" she questioned appalled. "I blame myself for allowing this to go on. Warn your superior that a full transformation is to take place before my next visit, or you shall all suffer the consequences."

"Wh-when will your next visit be, Your Highness?"

"When I please," she said shooting him a look. She beckoned Elphie and Mai'galen over to her. "Come, dears, you'll be leaving with me. Gather your things and—" she turned to the watchman. "—my Bubble better be ready by the time we're outside. Away!"

xoxoxo

"You're late," said the Emperor as he rose from the dining table. He watched Glinda scuttle across the marble floor, followed by two untidy, slightly frightened women. Even when the Empress laid a kiss on his cheek, he couldn't pry his eyes away from the unexpected guests.

"So sorry we kept you waiting, dearest," said Glinda.

"What is this?" asked the Emperor, half-confused and half-amused.

"What? Didn't you see it coming?" teased Glinda. What with your I-can-see-the-future ego, she added silently to herself.

"I have to admit I did not. Welcome! No, no, don't bow. I haven't had a pedicure in weeks!" He laughed, apparently enjoying the extra company. The Empress smiled, glad that this didn't upset him like she thought it would. It was so rare to see him smile when other people were around. He was always so serious, always so focused on business. "Where are you ladies from?"

"I picked them up in southwestern Vinkus," answered Glinda. "They're from the sanatorium."

"Oh, is that so? I hear it's lovely in the sum—" He turned to her. "What?"

Oh dear, perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say at this very moment. The Empress tried to change subjects or, at the very least, delay his anger until they were alone. She summoned her ladies-in-waiting and they ushered Elphie and Mai'galen away to be cleaned and changed into a fresh set of clothes. They couldn't join them for dinner looking the way they did.

"You brought two mental patients into our home?" he asked. "Glinda! I was hoping you'd bring home dessert."

"Have you seen that dungeon?" she asked. "It's awful! We need to make some changes with the sanatorium, Liamn, it's disgusting."

The Emperor silently agreed. If they kept the rest of their residents as filthy and unkempt as the two houseguests, there definitely needed to be some changes made. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, the Elphie woman went mad when we started floating off ground. We had to make frequent stops so she could gain her composure."

"She _went_ mad?"

"Don't taunt her," she said. "The very thought of flying baffled her, as if the idea was impossible. It really is sad."

While they waited for their houseguests to change, the Emperor and his wife shared a small appetizer and discussed what was to be done about the sanatorium. Glinda was sure the facility was negligent about a lot of things like hygiene, contacting families and finding conservatorships. Liamn continued to agree, but wordlessly. He couldn't help admiring his wife's beauty beneath the soft yellow light streaming from the chandeliers. Moments like these reminded him how lucky he was.

Before long, their visitors returned looking clean and pristine.

"Isn't that better? You look wonderful! Go on, have a seat. Elphie…?" She almost couldn't believe her eyes. In the shadow, the woman was the spitting image of her best friend from long ago, draped in a thin, silken black robe. She had that expression of fearlessness and indifference Elphaba used to always carry, even though Glinda knew in her heart it was all a façade.

"Yes?" she asked.

The Empress snapped out of her trance. She offered her a smile. "You look beautiful."

And she blushed the way Elphaba used to blush, her cheeks turning a soft pale, her shoulders shrugging slightly. "Thank you."

They each took a seat at the dining table and luckily the houseguests accepted their warm welcome and slowly let their defenses down. Meals was served immediately and the guests, after waiting politely for the Emperor and his wife to take the first bite, gobbled the food down and practically licked their plates clean before the servants came back with the wine.

"My, what hearty appetites," said the Emperor, grinning.

"They probably don't feed them in that horrid place," said Glinda. "See what they did to poor Mai'galen? They hexed her mouth shut. Don't you worry, dear, I'll brew a tonic before bed to hasten recovery. You'll be speaking again in the morning."

"You're in good hands," said the Emperor. "My Glinda is quite brilliant with her concoctions."

"Glinda?" asked Elphie suddenly. "The Good?"

There was silence at the table. It wasn't as if the Empress took offense, but it was a combination of surprise and unease. She began to wonder if this Elphie woman really was mentally ill. It couldn't be possible that she didn't know her very own Empress. Maybe, perhaps… she wasn't a resident of Oz…

"The very one," said the Emperor.

Elphie knew she had made things awkward. She looked down at her plate and started playing with the food she had left. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I feel like my mind is a huge blank. My apologies, Your Highness."

"Think nothing of it," said Glinda quietly.

"Yes, no harm done," agreed the Emperor. "Tell me, Elphie, what are your interests?"

"Um… I love animals, I suppose. I'm an animal rights' activist."

"So you're also on the bandwagon for Animals' right to speech?" asked Glinda. She was more like Elphaba than she thought.

Elphie's lips curled and she let out a little laugh. "Animals don't know how to speak," she mumbled before taking the last bite off her plate.

Again there was silence. It would have been an excruciatingly long one if the Emperor hadn't spoken up. "See, that's what they want you to think," he said with a glint in his eyes. "But, the Animals are quite eloquent speakers. And phenomenal singers, too. Phyden! Would you grace us with your presence for a tick-tock?"

One of the servants, a tall Elk with a black suit uniform, appeared from behind the kitchen door. Glinda tried to hide her grin as Elphie ogled at him open-mouthed. "How may I be of service, Your Highness?" he asked with a soft, gruff voice.

"Do you mind honoring us with an aria?" asked the Emperor.

"We do so much love hearing you sing, Phyden," said Glinda beaming.

"Most certainly, Your Highnesses," he replied. And to Elphie's astonishment, hidden inside the old Elk was a beautiful voice, large in range and gentle in vibrato. Glinda couldn't help but exchange occasional looks with her husband, who seemed to be just as amused as she was.

When Phyden finished, they all applauded, Elphie being the loudest. Apparently, she had never heard anything more breathtaking in her life. By the time they assembled at the parlor for their evening tea, she was laughing. She was so fascinated by the Emperor's stories, her eyes attentive, her lips tucked unless to ask a question (which was often). Her eyes sparkled at the thought of magic and sorcery existing in a world.

"So, what were you doing while the Wizard was in power?" she asked chewing on a pastry.

"There wasn't a great deal I could do," he said. "The Wizard ascended from the skies and the people were spellbound by him. My uncle fought for the throne, rightfully his, and was killed in the process. All my relatives were in the castle when it crumbled. I survived because I was a little rascal and snuck out before dinner. I was only seven.

"One of the servants took me to his village in Quadling Country and I stayed with his mother. She had to be very careful; she couldn't let anyone know she was harboring the only living heir of royalty. I watched as the Wizard persecuted my family name, take the throne and ultimately Oz. During his reign, I lived how a normal boy would live. I was anti-government, of course, and I rallied with the Animals. I saw things I probably would have never seen if I stayed in Jewel City."

"Jewel City? I thought this was the Emerald City?" asked Elphie.

"Forgive me. Emerald City."

Glinda noticed his eyes turn sorrowful. His fingernails dug at the armrests of his chair. She knew she had to change subjects. "By the way, I'll need the names of any relatives you have," she said setting her saucer and cup on the bench beside her. "Wherever in Oz they are, we'll find them."

"I, um, don't have any relatives in Oz," said Elphie, taking a sip of her tea. She glanced at Mai'galen, who hadn't said much but a few broken words (the charm still had a stronghold on her) throughout the evening, but was enjoying herself nonetheless. "But, uh… our daughters… are missing. That is, her daughter and my daughter."

"Oh dear!" Glinda frowned. "What happened?"

"I d-don't know," she stammered. "I just know she's here and I don't know where to start looking. Mai'galen and I—"

Mai'galen grabbed her hand and started shaking her head in panic. She had terror in her eyes as if she was begging Elphie not to divulge anymore. She was hiding something.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mai'galen, you're in good hands," said the Emperor putting a supportive hand on her arm. "We will find them."

"That's what I told her," said Elphie, smiling. She was finally beginning to trust them. Glinda hoped this would give her the opportunity to talk with her and have her open up. If not, she would have to take things into her own hands.

"You know, Elphie, I don't think you're crazy," said the Emperor. "It's almost as if you're from another world."

Elphie laughed nervously. "It feels like that. Like as the galaxies are spinning, a comet is pulled from orbit as it passes the sun and everything's changed."

Glinda didn't even notice the teacup slipping from her fingers until it hit the floor. Did she hear right? Her heart hammered against her chest. Something was running through her veins, a rush, a memory, maybe. It wasn't just familiarity now. It was something more.

"Darling, are you alright?" asked her husband. He was sitting next to her now, holding her hands to keep them from shaking. The servants were leaving, having just cleaned up the mess.

"I'm fine, just clumsy, I guess," she said, taking a breath.

"You know," he said, addressing everyone now, but still holding his wife. "It's not completely strange. The heroine Dorothy Gale fell from a star and killed the Wicked Witches of the East and West. Which star did she say she was from, dear?"

"Um. Kansas, I believe."

"Kansas?" asked Elphie. "That's not a star, that's a—"

"Miss Glinda?" Everyone looked up to see Phyden standing with a serving dish in front of him. A letter was placed at its center. "There is an urgent note for you from Governess Rowena. She says she expects a reply within the hour."

"Of course she does," said Glinda, trying to stand. The ground felt as if it was moving for a second, shifting her sense of gravity. Her husband's strong arms guided her up and led her to Phyden, who would escort her out. Before they left, she turned to her visitors.

"You'll have to excuse me while I attend to business. Mai'galen, would you mind coming with me? I'll brew that potion for you right away." The old woman stood up and gave Elphie a worried look. She returned it with an encouraging smile and murmured good night. Mai'galen took the Empress's arm. When they left, the only ones in the room were the Emperor and Elphie.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," said Elphie graciously. "I think she needs this kind of loving atmosphere, that poor woman. Who knows how long her child's been missing?"

"Elphie…" The Emperor rose from his chair. He was an intimidating figure when he wanted to be, his robes heavy and long, his face wrought with restlessness and exhaustion. The shadow behind him grew as the light from the oil lamps faded. "I don't think it's best to trust Mai'galen so effortlessly."

"Oh? Is there something you know about her?"

"Only speculation. While I don't believe you're crazy, I ardently believe she is. I don't think her child is missing at all."

"What makes you say that?" she asked incredulously. She couldn't believe a sensible man like him would be so skeptical, almost cynical, about a woman's distress.

"I think she murdered her child. True, she didn't say much tonight, but I think she's from the same village I grew up in when I was in Quadling Country, or at least a neighboring village. I recognize her accent. And down south, it isn't uncommon for women to kill their babies."

She was shaking her head. It couldn't be possible, at least not with Mai'galen. "You're wrong. That woman did not murder her baby."

The Emperor watched her intently, examining every move she made, every twitch and every breath. He walked over to the tall bookshelf and ran his fingers along the leather jackets. There was a bell and a string hanging near the window beside him. He rang it twice.

"I've called the maids to show you to your room," he said. "And Elphie… you're not hallucinating. You are, in fact, in Oz and that pain you're feeling of agony, of fear, is quite real. If you're thinking of doing what I think, I ask you to reconsider. It wouldn't be in your best interests."


	6. I See Dead People

**_Author's Note: Whew, this one was harder to produce than the others. I went through four drafts of this chapter, so I hope it was well worth it... I hope. Please, leave comments, insignificant or not! Every little bit helps, truly. The next couple of chapters are my favorite so I can't wait. Thank you for keeping up with this story! It means a lot to me. You guys rock, hardcore and then some! _**

**Chapter Six**

"You know, my mornings are becoming lonelier each day."

It took much effort to lift her eyelids. The shades were drawn, shielding the light from outside and leaving the parlor dark and cool. Books and pieces of parchment scratched with ancient writing were sprawled all over the floor. A holographic map of Oz was sitting on her lap. On that map, a miniature Time Dragon Clock hovered over Munchkinland. Liamn smiled as Glinda leaned her head back onto the sofa chair and went back to sleep.

"Darling, you can't sleep here," he said, picking up the map and setting it on the desk. He noticed different areas circled and labeled _portals_, but he couldn't figure out what they meant. Not now, anyway. "You can't keep doing this, love."

"There's no need to apologize, Fiyero, it's over and done with," murmured Glinda, pulling her dressing gown over a bare ankle.

Liamn raised an eyebrow. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Glinda, dear…?"

"Oh, Liamn, you really should get a haircut."

"Erm… I suppose I should." He scratched his head. Ten years and he never knew his dear wife to talk in her sleep. He shook her a bit and she squirmed in her seat. Her eyes fluttered open hazily.

"Liamn!" she said, surprised. "How… what time is it?"

"The sun is just rising. This is the twelve night this month you've slept somewhere besides our bedroom."

"You've been counting?" she asked briskly. She didn't mean to snap at him, but one couldn't expect her to be bright and peppy after interrupting her beauty sleep.

"Of course," he whispered quietly.

"Our guests…"

"They're still slumbering in their comfortable beds, as you should be. Come dear, an Empress really should get plenty of rest."

"What are you dressed for?" She noticed her husband was already in his dress robes.

"Rowena asked me to take care of the matter."

"But, I was supposed to do it!"

"Well, it seems she had a change of mind," he said. "I promise I'll let you take over once I bring it home. Alright? In the mean time, you can tend to your guests. You can't leave them now."

"Fine," she said. She leaned her head back again, not wanting to move.

"Glinda, I have to ask you… again… about the ruby slippers."

"I told you, I only charmed them so the Wicked Witch couldn't touch them. That's all I did."

"How did you know they could transport people—"

"Liamn. Please."

It was one of the things they regularly fought about, not that they fought frequently. But, Liamn knew Glinda kept secrets and although he could see the future, he couldn't decipher the past. He had always been just a little suspicious about Glinda's relationship with the Wizard. It was common knowledge that before she began denouncing him, she was one of his most promising apprentices. The Emperor knew she knew things about the Wizard, and about the Wicked Witch, but she'd never speak of it.

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning. "Let's just get you to bed."

"I can't," she said, pouting. "My legs have fallen asleep." She closed her eyes and sighed.

Liamn slipped his arms underneath her legs and behind her back and lifted her up. He made sure the journey to their bedroom was careful and slow for he wasn't sure when he'd have her in his arms again.

xoxoxo

Her fingers burned with every page turned. Even now, the language was just as difficult to decode, the writing mere zigzags and meaningless lines. Some spells were easier than others. She had spent all night re-teaching herself the basic concepts of the ancient language, reading and rereading old scrolls and their modern translations. They were of little help. Much of the effort was just piecing the puzzle pieces herself.

"Madame… Glinda?" A young servant girl peered in. "Miss Elphie is awake. Her breakfast is ready."

"Thank you, Sofina," said Glinda. "I'll bring it up to her." She tucked the Grimmerie in between the pile of cookbooks (afraid that her husband might suspect she was up to something) and went into the dining room.

A tray of toast, porridge and a couple of bright tomatoes waited on the table. There was also freshly squeezed orange juice and a kettle if she wanted any tea. Glinda took the tray in her hands and started for the stairs, the kettle and teacups floating closely beside her.

Tiredness was still in her eyes. She didn't get much sleep after Liamn had tucked her in. Something about the bed didn't seem right. The pillows didn't feel like hers at all. The sheets were heavy, pressing down on her body as if it was trying to suffocate her. She couldn't stay. Instead, she had walked the halls.

She had known there were shadows and spirits in the walls that lurked until sunrise. It had seemed they had gathered in Mai'galen's room for the night and was overstaying their welcome. From her bedroom, Glinda had heard the old woman's voice, angry whispers, and her palms banging the walls.

Worried, the Empress had checked up on her. Entering the room, she had seen more than she wanted to: Mai'galen scratching the wallpaper, asking no one in particular things like, "Where is she? Don't look at me like that. Don't you think I know you're spies, tyrants?" and a dozen photographs spread on the carpet, old, dusty and brown. Before she had a chance to take a closer look at them, the woman had caught her.

Glinda's heart had leapt out of her chest. Something was wrong. She had called her servants to bring up some warm cider to soothe Mai'galen. The claims about the child with the green skin would have to wait until later.

The door to Elphie's room stood in front of the Empress menacingly, like a merciless giant waiting for a fool to approach him. Glinda never had to deal with beasts or monsters or anybody truly vicious in her tenure. The Wizard was a spineless old man with no power and Madame Morrible was a marionette to be played with. That wasn't a very impressive résumé. Her husband had seen far more horrors, living in the dark quarters of Quadling Country. She feared the day she had to face a truly evil power and fight.

It was funny. She grew up with everything she ever wanted, with jewels, riches, beauty and power. From there, she learned that compliance was integral if one wanted to reach full potential. Her husband was robbed of everything he had and did everything but comply with the Wizard's orders. How two different people like that fell in love was beyond her understanding.

"Elphie? I brought up a tray of food and some tea."

"The door's unlocked."

Glinda pushed the door open with her foot and was embraced by the yellow and green lights of Emerald City. Elphie was standing beside the full-wall window, silently admiring the hustle and bustle, the magical wonders and the world she thought she knew nothing of. The irony was bittersweet. Glinda remembered it was Elphie that had invited her to the Emerald City. It was here they became the best of friends; here was where they met the Wizard and where their lives changed drastically.

"I wish I could breathe the air," said Elphie, laughing. "Back home, it's nothing but smog and secondhand smoke. But, the latch is too high, I can't reach it."

"Well, that's easy." Glinda set the tray down and the kettle settled beside it. She walked over to Elphie and they both looked up at the latch. "All you have to do is say the magic words."

Elphie crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "Open sesame?"

"No. _Leithre_!" The top window began sliding itself open. "You can use that charm to open anything."

"I can't do that."

"Sure, you can." Glinda pointed to the kettle on the bedside table. "Here's something simple. A levitation charm. They aren't as permanent as spells, which are much harder, but they are useful. _Nimul la_." The kettle elevated and started pouring its content into the teacups. It was as if a spirit had walked in and helped himself. "When you become better-skilled, you'll be able to do it without a turn of the wand or wrist. And if you get really good, you won't have to say the words at all. Why don't you try?"

Elphie laughed. "What, you mean telekinesis? Are you kidding?"

"Why don't you humor the Empress?" she asked with a pleasant smile and an unspoken plea. She was just a bit amazed. The woman standing before her didn't know her own gift and what she was capable of.

Elphie smirked and shook her head in disbelief. She gave Glinda a look. "Nimul…la?"

"That's right. Stick your hand out, concentrate and recite the words clearly." She demonstrated a bit, but very quickly. If this were Elphaba, the powers would be innate.

Elphie mimicked her motions, stretching her arm out toward the table. A crooked finger pointed at the teacups and she said the words in a low, hushed voice. "_Nimul la_."

Shakily, but surely, the teacups hovered into the air and began floating toward them. Elphie grinned hugely and laughed, astounded.

"I don't believe it," she whispered.

"You're a natural," said Glinda, beaming. She flicked her wrist and a small jar materialized out of nowhere, lingering in midair.

"How did you do that?"

"_Allepri_. Simple teleportation charm, only strong enough to do short distances. Now…" She waved her hand and the jar began following the train of teacups. "One lump or two?"

They laughed at what Elphie thought was just an incredible spectacle: dancing teacups and sugar cubes diving. It was then Glinda realized how much she missed her best friend. Too many years had passed, too many memories lost and too many worries gone uncomforted. She knew there was a definite hole in her heart and she had done everything she could to fill it. Nothing was more gratifying than now.

After the show and an encore (it seemed that Elphie also wanted honey and mint in her tea, although whether it was her taste buds or curiosity she was trying to satisfy, Glinda was on the fence), the pair pulled up a couple of chairs beside the window.

"Do you have any children, Your Highness?" asked Elphie.

There wasn't a swift reply. She answered after a few moments. "An heir to the throne is yet to be born."

"Should I cross my fingers?"

Glinda looked at her skeptically. "Why?"

Elphie smiled. "It's a gesture for luck in my world."

"Oh… I see. Well, I think we need a bit more than luck," replied Glinda sadly. It was quiet for a moment. The emerald glow from the City reflected off Elphie's skin. It really was her. Glinda needed to know for sure. "Elphie, that's an interesting name. A nickname, no doubt?" asked Glinda, stirring her tea.

"Um, yes," she replied looking out the window unsteadily. She was avoiding eye contact.

"Where is it from?"

Elphie took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat. "I, uh… I'm not sure. My best friend from when I was younger I think coined the phrase. I don't know."

"Elphaba?"

"Yes?" It was almost as if her lips deceived her. Her eyes grew large and scared, then confused. She focused on a spot on the floor, trying to figure out why she had responded to that name. Or perhaps she was trying to figure out why that name had sounded so familiar. She drank the rest of her tea in one swig. "I'm sorry, I…"

"Elphaba, it's me. Remember? Glinda the Good."

"No. Okay, I'm done pretending now. She's not real—" She stood up abruptly, panic-stricken. She put her hand in front of her as if she didn't want Glinda to follow her. "The Good Witch of the North and the Wicked Witch—"

"Elphie, you are the Wicked Witch of the West."

"_What_? I… No, that's—no. No."

"Allepri!" There was a flash of light. Suspended between them was an item that used to belong to one or the other at some point in their lives. A tall, pointed black hat. "This was yours."

Elphie stared at it, wide-eyed. "It's… it's not true."

The room began to spin. The walls leaned forward ready to collapse into the whirlwind that had formed in the middle of the floor. Elphie spun around to face the window, but the City of Emeralds had disappeared. It was all black. When she turned back around, she found Glinda raising her arms, orchestrating. She was doing it all.

"I know you remember," the Empress said. She waved her hand toward Elphie and an image appeared in front of her, like a figure constructed out of pieces of the rainbow. A girl in a chair wheeled herself around the body of space in front of her.

"We used to be best friends," Glinda pressed on. "We went to Shiz together, with your sister. Do you remember her?"

"I—I don't h-have a sister. Please, don't—"

"Her name was Nessarose, don't you recall?" Another wave of her hand and an image of a Goat appeared. "You also met your mentor there, Dr. Dillamond." The figures dissipated like smoke before Elphie could touch them. Then another image, a much larger one, emerged.

This man she knew. His figure walked slowly toward the whirlwind, one foot after the other, his eyes fixed. This was the man she fell in love with, the one who understood her, the one who gave her a baby and a chance to be happy. Why was this so-called Empress trying to play tricks on her? Why was she tormenting her?

"Fiyero!" His next step was his last. The whirlwind swallowed him whole. The room began to settle, the colors and the steadiness returning. She sat back down. Tears welled behind her eyes as the memories flooded back. Glinda closed her eyes. Elphie remembered. How much she remembered was still a mystery.

"What did you slip into my drink?"

"A potion. It uncovers hidden secrets from your past," Glinda replied softly. That was what the Grimmerie had said anyway, or at least from what she could make out of it. "What do you remember?"

"Not much, but… it, um… it should be coming back," said Elphie rubbing her forehead. "I'm dizzy. Did you have to be so dramatic?"

"You're supposed to be dead," said Glinda. "Your skin—" She suddenly stood up. Her husband was home. "Excuse me for just tick tock. Elphie…" she wanted to slap her for playing such a cruel joke and tell her how happy she was that she was back. But, she was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would cry. When she closed the door behind her, Elphaba was looking out the window once again.

She met the Emperor in the throne room. In his arms was a furry, white little dog. "She's lost all speech," he said frowning.

"What a poor little puppy!" Glinda said, petting it behind his ears.

"We have more dire business," he said. "Rowena said her servants found the pup chewing on this." From his pocket, he pulled out a red slipper. Glinda couldn't believe it. That wasn't possible. It wasn't supposed to be in their world. "We haven't recovered the other one. Glinda, whatever secrets you're keeping, now is the time to reveal them."

"I… come with me," she said leading the way upstairs. She couldn't explain this herself. Her husband never used to believe what she said about the Wizard and the Wicked Witch, not if they went against what he believed in. He couldn't accept the fact the Wizard was overthrown and he couldn't entertain the fact that the Wicked Witch assembled with the Animals. He had always claimed he would know if she was doing good for a cause he cared about. Glinda needed back up. She needed Elphaba there.

And maybe then she'd be able to get some answers from Elphaba about her "death."

"Your Highness!" cried Sofina, meeting her on top of the stairs. Her hands were trembling uncontrollably. "She's fled!"

"What?" The Empress looked at her husband. How could she have gone away? She picked up her dress and hurried to the room she was in not ten minutes before. "Elphie!" She burst through the door.

Lifeless. The bed was made, the windows closed. The tray of food, the teacups were gone. The hat had disappeared as well. It was as if no one had been here at all.


	7. A Spell Gone Awry

_**Author's Note: Elphaba's turn! A bit of a warning: Heavier content. Tension will continue to climb, but I tried to play around with a bit of humor anyway. Thank you for keeping up and hope you enjoy! Reviews would be lovely =) **_

**Chapter Seven**

Every hour on the hour, a memory returned.

Some may be welcomed, some may be spurned.

Every secret buried will resurface and become clear

Be it a lover, a feeling or your darkest fear.

There will be mysteries you've known,

and some not your own.

You will remember evil, you will remember good,

and you'll now face a danger no reasonable person should.

Those were the conditions that particular spell held, if she remembered correctly. And every hour since she left the Palace, a memory would wash over. She relived every agonizing second. She couldn't walk—her legs would wobble until her knees gave in, the pain of her visions slicing through her head. They would only last seven or eight seconds, but she always needed more than that to recuperate. The sounds and colors were so clear, so tangible. Even after the vision was over, the anger or hurt continued to writhe in her veins.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just emotion. When the girl threw the bucket of water, it was like fire, and after the images in her head disappeared her skin was still burning. It was excruciatingly slow, the melting.

It had been three days. The nights were the worst. It was one nightmare after the other and every morning she'd wake up in sweat. She didn't remember how long until the spell wore out. She didn't know how much longer she could last. Some secrets learned weren't even hers to keep…

"Where are we?" asked Elphaba, leaning on a tree trunk. It seemed that the dirt road lead on forever.

"Somewhere in Quadling country," said Mai'galen. "What is on your head?"

"It keeps the sun out of my eyes." It was the fifth time she had asked this question since they teleported out of the castle. She pulled the black hat over her eyes and continued to walk.

"It was only a question," said Mai'galen quietly.

"I'm sorry," said Elphaba frowning. "But, I've been through hell these pass few days so forgive me if I'm not in the best of moods."

"Hell?"

"Don't ask."

"I don't understand. They were nice to us. The Empress took me away from the sanatorium. Why did we leave her?"

Elphaba refused to answer her question. She knew the old woman wouldn't understand. The truth was that she was scared. She wasn't supposed to be in Oz; this was another life. But, here she was, searching for her daughter who may very well be dead. She couldn't stay in the castle. She couldn't face Glinda. How was she supposed to explain that she faked her own death and now had a family in the other world? And the Emperor would want answers about how she was able to travel worlds, where the portals were.

Glinda would want to know how she changed her skin. That was one question she couldn't answer. Elphaba called it luck. She would expect nothing short of pandemonium if Oz learned the Wicked Witch of the West had risen from the dead.

"Argh!" she groaned, kicking the pebbles on the ground. She rubbed her temples. The headaches never receded after the visions.

"What's the matter?" asked Mai'galen, worried. "You just had a vision! You can't possibly be having another one."

"No. I'm trying to remember something, but… apparently, the memories come when they please," said Elphaba rolling her eyes.

"What are you trying to remember?"

"Someone who can help us. I used to know her when I was helping with the Animals' cause. But, there's a certain way to get to her, I just… can't remember it."

"Don't you remember anyone from the cause that can bring you to her?"

"I remember names and faces, but I doubt they'd recognize me. I don't remember much and of what I do remember… I wouldn't even be able to convince them who I was."

"You must have been pretty important. Who are you?"

Elphaba looked at the old woman. She certainly was a chatty one. It wasn't a wonder the watchman hexed her mouth shut. If it there was even a chance Elphaba could have left her in Emerald City, she would have. But, she had made her a promise. She would find her daughter, as well as her own, dead or alive. The old woman trusted her. "No one," she replied and quickened her pace.

"Have you seen a photo of my Mysha?"

The woman handed her an old photograph. The paper was fragile and the creases along the center had turned white. A small child a few years younger than Elena was smiling at her. She was sitting atop a tree branch, her short legs dangling. The red on her hair was like dark cherry and her skin was perfectly green. Elphaba smiled. "She's beautiful."

"Are we going to rest soon?"

"There is a house up ahead," said Elphaba, pointing at a shack. A man had just walked inside. "We will stop there for the night, if they let us. Do you remember the plan?"

"Yes. You're my daughter and I'm your sickly mother. We need boarding for the night."

"Very good. Just this time, try not to be so theatrical."

xoxoxo

The book had such funny writing the first time she saw it. It was chicken scratch, random symbols of a language old and ancient. The symbols were a puzzle you pieced together and it came so easy for her. She had no idea it would cause so much trouble. Instead of destroying it, she had given it to her best friend, in hopes that maybe someone else would be able to do some good with it.

No, that was a lie.

She tried to burn it. But, it reappeared hours later, unscathed. She didn't have time to figure out how to get rid of it. So, she gave it to the one person she knew who wouldn't be able to read it. Perhaps, there had been wickedness in her after all.

Now, the Grimmerie was included in a set of cookbooks in Glinda's kitchen.

"She'll be okay," said a faint voice.

"I think she's coming to," said another.

"Why is she wearing that dreadful hat? She looks like… you know who."

A steady throbbing replaced the sharp pains from what felt like a butcher cutting her brain as he would a piece of meat. She opened her eyes and found three foggy figures sitting in front of her. They were sitting at the kitchen table, she could tell that much. It wasn't until her eyes readjusted when she noticed a towel wrapped around her neck and a huge bowl filled with steaming water under her chin. The mist was hot, but it was soothing.

"I feel like I was hit over the head with a broomstick," said Elphaba massaging her forehead.

"Sorry about that, Miss," said the husband, "but young Wenden here panicked. You started going mad and he thought you were a Witch." The little boy on his lap grinned toothily. That critter was the spawn of the devil, he was, thought Elphaba, finding the bruise on the back of her head.

"Here, drink this, dearie," said the wife. She handed her a mug.

Elphaba sniffed and scrunched up her nose. It smelt sour. She didn't want to be rude, however, so she took a sip. It tasted a bit like vinegar. Before gulfing it down as quickly as she could, she asked, "Is this some sort of solution for headaches?"

"Oh, no, that's what the steam is for," answered the wife. "What you're drinking is a remedy for tapeworms."

The mug crashed to the floor and shattered all over. The wife and husband stood up. "You better get the mop, son," said the husband to his boy. Elphaba gagged and wiped her tongue furiously with the towel. While the couple left the room to fetch some rags and a new change of clothes (for Elphaba had consequently spilled the drink all over her dress), Mai'galen burst into laughter.

"Well, I'm glad you think this is funny, you crazy, old coot," said Elphaba. "Why did you tell them I had tapeworms?"

"You began to have one of your visions," said Mai'galen, wiping her eyes.  
"They opened the door and you lurched forward and started screaming, grabbing your stomach and your head. They asked what was wrong and it was the first thing I said."

"Couldn't you have thought of a less embarrassing reason?"

The woman shook her head. The couple came back and Elphaba stood up, helping them mop up. She apologized for how she reacted. Luckily, there was a warm smile on each of their faces.

"We have five children. Things like this happen all the time," said the wife kindly.

"I think it was the funniest thing I've seen in a while," said the husband with a huge smirk spread across his dry lips.

"Why don't you take that dress into our bedroom and change into it?" The wife pointed at a frock hanging on one of the chairs. "I suppose you don't mind the color."

"You can't go wrong with black," said Elphaba smiling.

The wife's eyes glittered, so much like how a mother would stare at her child: always with a bit of admiration and exhaustion. Elphaba couldn't help but feel nostalgic. "Make a left out of the kitchen, dearie, straight into the hallway. It's the door at the end."

Their home was quite cramped for a family of seven. What was supposed to be the master bedroom was small, only enough for a bed and a couple of drawers. Changing out of the nice flannel sleepwear she had slept in at the Palace, she realized that she hadn't bathed in three days. Although, chances of a bath anytime soon were slim.

"Oh, no." As if there wasn't enough on her plate. But, there it was clear as day. Right above her ankle a spot of green.

There was a tap on the door. "Is everything alright in there?"

"I'll be right out Mai'g—um, Mother," she said quickly slipping into the black dress. They couldn't dawdle long. Time was against her. They'd stay the night then make haste in the morning.

xoxoxo

Danalie reminded her a bit of Elena. Not in the way she looked because the youngest daughter of the five children had wavy, strawberry-colored hair and brown eyes. She did have freckles like her daughter and she pursed her lips in exactly the same way. Elphaba liked carrying Danalie in her arms even if it was only for this moment.

"What does that cloud look like?" she asked the little girl. They were in the living room, looking out the window. The sun was beginning to set and the clouds had begun to gather and turn orange and red.

"Choo-choo," Danalie answered brightly.

"Elphie, are you okay?" Mai'galen was looking at her, worried.

"Fine." For now, anyway. Deep down, she was worried as well. She hadn't had a vision in nearly two hours.

"Mai'galen, will you help me in the garden?" asked the wife. She was standing in front of the kitchen doorway. "Rimmy is keeping an eye on the kids and I need to dig up some potatoes for dinner." Mai'galen nodded and left. The game of clouds continued.

A few minutes later, two small arms wrapped around her knees. Elphaba looked down and saw Wenden (the boy with the strong arm) hugging her legs.

"Is this an apology?" she asked tousling his hair.

He looked up at her with big, brown eyes. "Witch."

Elphaba felt a lump in her throat. Apparently this kid knew something. He lifted a bit of her skirt and pointed at her feet. To her horror, they were completely green. "Witch," he repeated.

"No, no, just…" She couldn't think of an excuse. Gently setting the girl down, she straightened her dress, trying to cover any green that may be exposed.

"Mommy, Witch!" Danalie cried, running out.

"No, Dana—" before she could follow her, there was a stinging in her legs. Wenden had struck hard, this time hard enough so she collapsed on her knees. "Give me that broom." As Elphaba snatched it away from his arms, the father walked in.

"Wenden, what did you do, you little scoundrel?" The little boy ran out to escape punishment and the man helped her onto the sofa, apologizing over and over. Her legs felt numb and if she tried to move them, they wobbled like jelly. She couldn't help but think of Nessa.

"Don't worry about it. The pain doesn't bother me much anymore."

"He probably missed your shins by an inch. That would have been unbearable!" There was this personality about him that seemed to turn everything into a laughing matter. His eyes were gentle and caring, but for some reason, it turned Elphaba off. "Are you sure you're not terribly hurt?" His hand crept to her knee and stroked it softly. There was mischief in his smile.

She scooted back. "No. I'm not."

"You don't need to be afraid, darling."

It wasn't fear that was in her. It was disgust. Anger. She had a tiny bias against fathers who didn't care at all about their family.

"One more move and you'll regret it." If she could feel her legs, she'd run, but she was trapped.

"Will I, now? That's a threat I'm willing to challenge." His hand slid down her legs and reached to the hem of her skirt. She raised a hand to push him, but he grabbed hold. "Don't, darling, I won't hurt you." His hands slipped underneath and Elphaba held her breath, struggling in his grasp. Then, he looked down at her legs.

His release loosened instantly. He stared at her, his jaw dropped. "Y-you. You're the Wicked Witch of the W—"

She brought the broomstick up to his head and with one blow he was out. She managed to hoist herself up using the broom as a crutch. She forced her legs across the room. Pushing the front door open, she yelled out for Mai'galen.

"Elphie? What is it?" She came from around the house. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"We must flee." She staggered away as quickly as she could, Mai'galen following close behind.

"What? Again? We're just about to get dinner ready—"

"Mai'galen, we must run."

"But, why—"

The wife's scream resonated in the air. They looked back at the house. Elphaba looked at the old woman with hard, stolid eyes. "_Now_." They picked up speed, but Elphaba continued to limp.

"Um, Elphie…" the woman tapped her shoulder and they looked behind them. Quadling Country's officers were seen stepping out of a stagecoach. Damn, Elphaba thought, why couldn't they be less efficient like the LAPD?

"Okay," she said. She hopped on the broom. "Get behind."

"What?"

"And when I count to three, push off the ground. Do as I say." The woman was unwilling at first, but she obeyed. Elphaba gripped the broom handle. This was strange to her. She was hoping it would be much like riding a bicycle, but familiarity was lost. "One… two… three!"

They pushed off and the broom carried them into the air. Her heart elevated as they soared past a row of cottages. This, the skies, she remembered.

"I can't believe we're flying," said Mai'galen. "How did you do that?"

"Never mind."

"But, your legs. You need to see a doctor."

She knew she couldn't do that. "What I need is a pair of shoes."

_**Author's Note: Shameful plug. If you're a Harry Potter fan, I've recently posted a tiny drabble (soon to be drabbles) about everyone's first (magical) pet. Really short and just something light/humorous. Called "My Pet Has Magical Powers, What About Yours?" Check my profile, if you're interested! Thank you again!**_


	8. A Telling Interlude

_**Author's Note: So sorry this is late, but I was having computer problems (ugh). I have a couple of announcements! Firstly, as of now updates will no longer be every other day (sorry!). I start school Thursday and it's my last year of college so I will be very, very busy. However, chapters will regularly be updated every TUESDAY and SATURDAY (tentative). Secondly, it was suggested I do a short chapter summary of where we left off, which I think is a great idea, especially because the gap between updates will be longer. Tell me what you think about the idea and if it works for you!**_

_**Thank you everyone for keeping up with this beast! It means a lot to me. If you ever have any suggestions, questions, comments, rants, words of encouragement, please review! Thank you again!**_

_Where we left off: Elphaba's memories are returning quite painfully, but that's not all. Her skin is changing as the transformation from Janice to Elphaba reaches its end. Now just escaping a murder (via flying broomstick), her legs injured, she realizes she needs to find a way to cope with her obstacles and formulate a plan to overcome them. _

**Chapter Eight**

There used to be a fable. It wasn't a very pleasant one; in fact, it was designed to scare children once upon a time. Parents later in the years decided to abandon such fables and settled for fairytales with happy endings and notions of hope. But there is no hope, no happy ending, Melena thought, rocking her green child gently. There is only misery.

xoxoxo

Long ago a young Goat visited an old witch. He hoped that she could do something to make him handsome, like the other boys in the village. He didn't like being teased. When the door opened, a beautiful woman draped in orange and red satin appeared. Why, she wasn't old at all. Her hair was golden and long, her eyes were a sparkling violet.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Please do," the Goat answered. He told her about his dilemma and that he would give anything to be as beautiful as she.

"Anything?"

"Yes. Anything."

The beautiful witch pondered for a moment. "Give me one of the horns on top of your head. That will be a suitable fee."

"My horns?" he asked, raising his hoof to his head. This was a part of him though. He imagined cutting them off would be quite painful.

"_A_ horn. Just one."

The Goat agreed. She took him in and told him to lie down on the table. Then she said it would hurt less if he thought of something enjoyable, and so he thought about Mama's sweet grass soup. After one swift swing of the cleaver and a loud cry, it was over. The Goat thought that maybe she cut too much. There was a bit of blood.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Wait." She gave him a wooden bowl filled with an elixir. She took the fresh horn and put it over the bowl. The blood dripped inside. "Drink."

He raised the rim to his lips and leaned his head back. The elixir slithered down his throat, thick and hot.

When the witch showed him a mirror, he was just as beautiful as the other boys in the village. "Thank you! I've never been happier!"

Everyone at the village was astounded. It had to be some sort of miracle or some sort of powerful sorceress's doing. They couldn't believe their eyes. However, his parents were less than happy.

"We loved you the way you were," his mother said glumly.

The Goat couldn't join his parents in their dissatisfaction, though. He was finally handsome.

Later that night, the Father Goat snuck out the house and paid the witch a visit. She didn't seem at all bothered by being disturbed in the middle of the night.

"Dillamond, love," she said, smiling. "How do you take to your son's new beauty?"

"How long does he have?" he asked frigidly.

Her smile slowly faded until she stood there with the most indifferent expression. "Three days. Brain lesion. Shouldn't have sacrificed his horn."

xoxoxo

Elphaba was finally sound asleep. Barely a month old and the energy the infant contained in her tiny body almost made it seem as if she was ready to take the world on her shoulders. Thankfully, her soft breathing finally accompanied the calming silence.

"I hope you enjoyed that story, my pretty," said Melena softly to her baby. "It's the only story you'll be hearing tonight."

The bath water was cool when Melena stepped into it. She loved lying in a nice bath for hours, especially when Frex was away or had locked himself in his office. There was something about the embrace the water gave her that made her feel safe and wanted, more so than any man could give her. It was her favorite thing to do. Now, it would be the last thing she'd do.

Standing naked in the bathtub, the water just under her knees, she pressed Elphaba against her bosom. Slowly, she grabbed onto the edge of the tub with one hand and lowered herself in.

"It'll all be over soon," she whispered, although whether she was reassuring her baby or herself, it wasn't entirely certain.

The top of her shoulders were sitting on top of the water now. Baby Elphaba rested at her neck. Melena reclined, her head gently on the frame. Her arms snaked tighter around her baby's body in case there would be any resistance. She closed her eyes, held her little girl close to her heart and slipped their bodies into the water. She felt her heart sinking then the sudden struggle from her Elphaba. There was only a small moment when Melena reconsidered. Knowing her baby would be dead in her arms before she herself drowned bothered her some. But, not enough.

The comfort of submergence disappeared instantly. She could suddenly breathe. Her arms were empty and she was somehow standing in the tub, the water draining at her feet. Elphaba's cries were heard in the other room with Nana's soft consolations. Melena looked at Frex who was wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" She didn't mean for the question to sound subdued. Her husband didn't answer. He helped her out of the tub and grabbed her bathrobe from behind the door. "Frex, you're supposed to be at the Vinkus."

He looked at her with cold, dark eyes. "You're supposed to be alive when I arrive."

"What do you care? You're the one who wants that child dead." His hand came at her and slapped her across the face. She always knew he had the gall to hurt her. Why he waited all this time, well, it was quite baffling. She supposed he really did love her, a fact she didn't truly realize until now. He was always about reputation and show, a kiss on the cheek and a smile to keep his image clean.

She'd do almost anything to ruin that image.

"You don't go down with the child," he said lowly.

"We die together. She's my flesh and blood."

"You're disgusted by her."

"I… see myself in her."

"She looks nothing like you."

"She has my eyes."

"She looks nothing like me, either."

"That's because she isn't yours." It was a slip of the tongue. But, his ears finally perked up. He was finally listening. "I… it was only a night. It was with a traveler from Gillikin. I had too much to drink. You weren't here and I was lonely." It was half a lie, but it was half the truth as well, and for her that was pretty good.

He raised his hand again. This time his palm rested on her damp cheek, tenderly caressing the line of her jaw. "I'm sorry," he said. "Please, don't leave me."

She looked down and nodded. He escorted her into the bedroom where Nana was putting Elphaba to sleep. He excused himself and closed the door.

"Thank Oz you two are alright," said Nana, setting the baby on the bed. "I thought I taught you better." There was a disappointed look in her eyes. Her long ears were drooping, the fur on her head was messy and knotted. She remembered the day she delivered Melena, who cried for hours in her mother's arms. She thought it would be the same when Melena gave birth. She had no idea her daughter would turn out green.

Melena looked hopelessly at her child. "I guess I'm incorrigible. You always said it when I was little."

Nana shook her head and placed the pillows on both sides of the baby to keep her from rolling off the bed. "What is this?" asked the nanny curiously. She picked up a green bottle tangled in the sheets.

"Oh, what? This?" Melena ran to grab it from her hands. "It's… only an old family remedy.. for, uh, nerves," she said quickly.

"An old family remedy? Why haven't I heard of it?"

"Uh…well, not our family. Old friend's family remedy."

She knew the nanny wasn't convinced. There was a glassy look in her eyes and hidden underneath were questions. Questions Melena wasn't ready to answer, not to her nanny anyway. If they were about the elixir, she wouldn't be able to answer them. She didn't know what it was.

"I've seen a bottle like that before," said the nanny softly. "The O'Therans. I delivered each of Madame O'Therans's daughters. The last time I had tea with them, Miryam, the youngest, had that very same bottle in her purse. When I asked her about it, she became defensive then quiet. If you'd like, Melena… I can give you their address…"

No one was more loyal than her Nana. She never judged, she never made her feel guilty of anything, even when she deserved it. Melena nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"I'll get that for you right away then," she said and walked out of the room.

Melena looked at Elphaba. She wondered if this child would love her at all. She almost feared it. She didn't want her baby to cling on to her like some sort of leech. That's how your hunger grows, thought Melena bitterly, if you're spoiled with love, you'll only want more of it.

"It's how I turned out, my pretty," whispered Melena, leaning over the cradle. "I was insatiable. I don't want you turning out that way. You'll be very happy with your independence. You don't need your father's love and you don't need mine."

xoxoxo

"Madame Thropp, I've been expecting you. Please come in."

The house was a quaint brick bungalow filled with modern furniture. It was much homier and looked more lived in than her house in Munchkinland. "You have a lovely place," said Melena.

"Thank you. I grew up in this house and inherited it when my parents died." The woman stopped in her footsteps and turned around. Her cocoa-colored hair was pulled back, her matching eyes softened and a smile curled on her lips. "How rude of me. I'm Lynnie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," replied Melena. She followed Lynnie into the living room where a pot of tea and a plate of lemon tarts were waiting for them.

"I know why you're here," said Lynnie, pouring a cup of tea. She handed it to Melena. "Please, help yourself, the tarts are freshly baked. It's about the elixir."

"Yes." Melena figured her Nana must have written her about it before she traveled to Quadling Country. She picked up a tart and bit into it, the gooey filling sweet on her taste buds.

"My younger sister, Oz bless her, is so innocent and so fragile," said Lynnie. "I thanked the stars when she found her soul mate, Lurline knows mine took a detour and is now forever stuck in a whirlpool. He may never find me. Anyway, as I said, Miryam is fragile and her husband's always away on business…"

"She… found someone else?"

"Her husband had taken a two-week trip to the Gillikin to do some negotiating. And there was this man who visited her every night. When I went to confront her about it one day, she opened the door and had this green bottle in her hand. I told her she shouldn't be taking things strangers gave her, but she just stuck her chin up haughtily and replied, _he's no stranger_."

Melena frowned. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the elixir. "Like this one?"

Lynnie didn't react, not something Melena expected her to do. She didn't even pick it up or examine it. She merely glanced at it then stood up and walked to a desk. She pulled a drawer open and fished out a small chest with golden engravings. She took out a green bottle, exactly like hers, and set it on the table.

"The very same," said Lynnie. "So, what is it about this elixir? I had never seen anything like it and no one in here has seen anything like this so… what do you know about it?"

"Nothing," admitted Melena. "I'm as clueless as you are. But, um… you shouldn't be drinking it."

Now Lynnie reacted. Her face grew white. "Why? It's just liqueur and water, isn't it?"

Melena turned her eyes away. "I suppose. I don't know, but I think it… I think it turned my daughter green."

"_Green_? Permanently?" It was almost as if she had seen something horrific. She stepped out of the room and came back with her coat on. "Come. I must see my sister." She grabbed Melena's arm and dragged her out the door. Lynnie told her that her sister's house was only a few blocks away. Melena had to practically job to keep up with her pace.

"My sister gave birth to a baby boy not two days ago. I was… unavailable. Anyway, it was her husband's duty to be there, it wasn't my place to—I assumed everything went fine, of course, maybe…" She trotted up the stairs to the front porch and knocked on the door. "She should be home. Where else would a mother be with a newborn?"

There wasn't any answer. Lynnie dug in her purse and pulled out a key.

"You have a key to your sister's house? Her husband's house?" asked Melena.

Lynnie only shrugged. She opened the door then gasped. "Oh, that rancid—what do you suppose that smell is?"

They walked in and the odor was nothing Melena had ever known. It was indescribable, maybe a bit like rotting meat, but worse. Whatever it was, it suffocated her, bringing tears to her eyes. She pulled out a handkerchief out of her handbag and covered her mouth with it.

"Sweet Oz!" Lynnie's voice was heard in another room. "Miryam!"

Melena ran to her side and froze. A young woman, practically a child, dangled from the low ceiling. A noose made out of a tablecloth was tied around her neck and hung from a chandelier. The expression on her face was blank, her skin pasty, her eyes seemed like they were filled with tears that never dropped. But, Melena didn't feel sickened or shocked, not like Lynnie. She didn't feel anything.

"I don't hear a child's cry," said Lynnie panicked.

They searched the house, but it was quiet. Maybe the husband took his son with him. Did he even know his wife was dead? Did he leave her because he had found out she had taken a lover? These were questions Lynnie kept asking as she paraded around the house.

Melena took a look outside, at the back, partly because she was tired of hearing Lynnie talk. The grass was overgrown and began turning a dirty yellow. That smell was also out here too. She looked down and saw a dying garden: a row of yellow and red roses bowing their heads sadly, almost respectfully. Then Melena saw it. A still, tiny green arm reaching to touch one. Miryam had buried her child alive.

xoxoxo

The vision was fading. She was waking up now; the images began to blur. She didn't want it to end though. Elphaba wanted to know more. She held on for as long as she could even though the pain was insufferable. Gradually, the voices came back.

_I'm not going to hurt that child._

_Melena—_

_Frex, there may be others._

_There may be others? There ARE others and no one can stand them. That woman killed her child because she knew what would become—_

_She's only green. As far as I know, she still has a brain. She still has a heart. Unlike her parents. Frex, if you even try to hurt her, I will never forgive you._

"Elphie?" Mai'galen was holding her hand. "What did you learn?"

She inhaled and breathed out slowly. "My father hates me because I'm not his child," she said, trying not to laugh. And she had thought it was because of what she had done to her mother and Nessa.

"Elphie?"

"Yes?"

"Your arm is green."

_**Author's Note: It may seem like an interlude chapter, but is it really? Next update is Tuesday. It'll be much lighter and comedic =) Boq will be making his debut!**_


	9. Me Not Talk English Good? Unpossible!

_**Author's Note: Ever have one of those "I feel worthless, give me H**__**ä**__**agen-dazs or give me death" weeks? I am having one of those weeks =( A couple of hours ago, I was in a car accident. I was on my way to school. It's stop and go traffic, I come to a full stop and the girl behind me looked away for one second and didn't see I had stopped. So she hits my car full force, my car rams into the car in front of me. My tiny car sandwiched between two SUVs. How am I going to get to school now? And how am I going to afford this because I know my insurance rate is going to go up. **_

_**I'm sorry for the rant. And I'm sorry this is a day late. Update schedule is tentative, but I promise an update twice a week. Here's a more fun chapter, so I hope you enjoy! Reviews would make my life because I currently hate it right now. Hope your week is going well. Thank you for keeping up!**_

**Chapter Nine**

She and Liamn currently weren't speaking. After Elphie's disappearing act, a conflict of interests came between the Emperor and the Empress. Glinda wanted to find her. He wanted to know more about the ruby slippers. It was a shame they couldn't come to a compromise. The sunset hiding behind the Vinkus mountains looked beautiful and would have made for a romantic evening. It wasn't everyday they were in the Winkie Country.

They were both so stubborn.

"Darling, this is important. This slipper reappearing out of the blue could be related to why your potions are reversing. It could mean that Dorothy Gale is back. It could mean that crazy old woman's claims of the Wicked Witch returning are true. Or some other unexplainable reason. Bottom line is we don't know what's going on. I _beg_ of you—"

"No, don't. Just drop it, Liamn."

"I can't. Something has to be done; you can't just ignore it and expect me to fix this just like that. Sweetheart, I implore you—"

"Must we do this now? Here?"

"Dearest, I beseech you—"

"Liamn! Stop it."

"Glinda, I…" He paused and sighed. "I am running out of verbs."

The end of the north hallway was reaching its end. The escorts were in front of the Emperor and his Empress, their eyes focused on the throne room before them, but their ears surreptitiously eavesdropping. The tall double doors pulled open from the inside and the King and Queen of Vinkus were seen seated in their chairs, their hair white, their fragile bodies buried underneath their royal clothes. The escorts walked in first. The sound of the Emperor's footsteps suddenly stopped. With a wave of his arm, the grand doors slammed shut.

"What in Oz?" Glinda ran to the doors and pounded. "What cruel joke is this?"

"I had to," confessed the Emperor. "Stop, Glinda. They're sealed."

"You have some nerve. Open these doors at once!" she demanded. She pressed her ears against the frame. There was struggling on the other side. "Our greatest apologies, your Excellency!" she called. "We're having a bit of tr—"

"Glinda, stop, they can't hear you. They're practically deaf."

"Are you two alright in there, my Empress?" asked an escort from behind the doors.

"For now," said Glinda through gritted teeth. "But, if you give me a tick-tock, I can obliterate your Emperor!"

This made Liamn laugh. She threw him a nasty look, annoyed that he would do this here, at the Tiggular's palace, and just slightly pained that he would choose to mock her now. Just because he was Emperor didn't mean he could have his way whenever he pleased. She picked up her dress and marched up to him. She wiped a blond curl away from her face and showed no more reservation.

"What? What do you want from me?" she asked throwing her hands in the air.

"Some answers," he answered, "Some support, perhaps. The truth."

"Here? You couldn't wait until we were alone or back home? You had to disrespect the King and Queen of Vinkus, who, by the way, have reigned far longer than you have."

"Glinda, they'll understand—"

"No. You may be the Emperor of Oz, Liamn, but you are no more than a husband to me," she said narrowing her eyes.

The Emperor didn't say a single word. It was when he didn't speak that scared Glinda the most. There was no way she was taking back what she had said because in some respects, she truly believed it. But, his silence offered her no comfort. She couldn't tell whether he was angry or hurt, whether he agreed with her or not, whether he wanted to fight or surrender.

"I am granting you one question," she said trembling a bit, although she was determined to hold on to this sense of authority for as long as she possibly could. "And I will answer fully and honestly. Then you will open those doors and hold your tongue on the matter for the duration of the meeting."

She rarely used that tone with him. Perhaps once or twice when he left the cap off of the tube of toothpaste. He slowly approached her, his face expressionless. She couldn't even see a tear or a single drop of sweat. She thought he was going to say something. Instead he walked passed her. She turned around to watch him leave, a part of her irritated that he wouldn't say a word after all that and yet relieved that he decided to back down.

"Only one question?"

Or perhaps he was only bluffing. Glinda sighed, but kept steadfast. Any question about the slippers, the Wicked Witch, she was ready for even though she was less than willing to answer them. "For now, yes."

His back remained to her. He was standing in front of the doors while the Empress waited for his question in the middle of the hallway. "Is your allegiance to the King and Queen of Vinkus due to their mere royal status or is it because they're parents to a man you once loved?"

Her heart stopped. They never talked about their previous relationships. She knew nothing about his former affairs and he didn't make it his business to pry into hers. He knew she was once engaged to the Captain of the Guard, but every person in Oz knew that. Nevertheless, she on no account paused to ask him about, or even think about, how he felt. She didn't think it mattered.

"You've never questioned our love before," said Glinda. She was cheating a bit by not answering him fully, but the question was unorthodox. The doors opened to the throne room and he strode inside without an utterance. She wished he would have waited just a minute more.

"My deepest apologies," said the Emperor to the King and Queen. He bowed and waited until Glinda was by his side. She curtsied and they both rose. "Will we be graced by your presence today?" he asked, although he was directing his inquiry to the Vinkus advisor.

"My King and his Queen will be retiring to their bedrooms shortly," said the advisor. "They first wanted to make sure their guests arrived safely."

"Will you be joining us in their absence then, Reyn?" asked the Emperor.

"Of course, Your Highness," he replied.

"Splendid." At the back, there was another set of doors that led to the conference room. Before the Emperor excused himself, he asked, "Are we fashionably late or are we waiting for anyone else?"

"Er, Governess… Rowena, Your Highness…"

"I thought so." He looked at Glinda, waiting for her to walk first. He didn't even spare two words for her.

The conference room had a long, rectangular table in the middle of the floor, the larger seat at the head of the table reserved for the Emperor. Portraits of the Tiggular ancestry hung on the walls. There were two empty portraits belonging to members that had betrayed the family. One bore Fiyero's name.

Meetings often rotated from country to country, a generous way of sharing a portion of a sense of power and space.

"Boq!" said the Emperor, raising his arms. "Good to see you… are transforming."

The Governor of Munchkinland stood up quite creakily. Glinda flinched at the sight of him. Although everything else about him was perfectly Munchkin, his limbs were made entirely of tin. Her potions seemed to have been reversing slowly so perhaps it was a matter of strengthening the potion…

"It's happening all over again," grumbled the Governor. "Only this time, I can feel the conversion happening. It's worse than a paper cut."

"Well, at least you've got that fancy little purse to match your metal," said the Emperor.

"It's not a purse, it's my oil can. Stupid oil can."

"Come now, I love the smell of petroleum in the morning." The Emperor's arms were outstretched. "Just because you're tin, doesn't mean you can't give hugs, Boq."

"I can't give you a bloody hug. My arms and legs are rusted solid."

"But, you stood up just now."

"Well, I'm getting old. Now, if you don't mind, Your Highness." He tilted his head down, his eyes on his legs. "Please, grab my oil can and lubricate me."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Uh, gladly."

While the men were lubricating, Glinda took her seat at the right beside the Emperor's chair. She was afraid to say anything. Liamn was already upset with her about the things she said in the hallway. She didn't want everyone at the meeting against her. "Oh, Bick—er, Boq," she said quickly after receiving a look from her husband. "I'm so sorry. I have no idea why this is happ—"

"Well, you better figure it out soon," Boq said crossly. "You know how difficult it is to use the toilet with these hands?" He held up what looked like two tin gloves. "I'll tell you. It's quite painful."

"I've always wondered that," said Liamn thoughtfully. He set the oil can under Boq's chair and proceeded to his own seat. "When you were made wholly of tin, wouldn't you have always rusted whenever you had to use the ba—"

"You dolt, tin men don't have—"

"Boq!" exclaimed Glinda.

"Well, they don't!"

"Did he just call me a dolt?"

"Well, isn't this group full of wit today?" Rowena entered the room, her hair in one long braid, her eyes glittering. Glinda always thought she had this personality only a few people would comprehend, that cynicism and playful air that made you wonder whether she was being completely serious or if she was joking altogether. The Governess of Quadling Country took a seat beside Boq, while Reyn sat next to Glinda.

"What are you men on about?" asked Rowena.

"We were having an intellectual discussion about the physical anatomy of tin men," replied the Emperor. "In other words, Potty Training 101."

"Oh, don't be so frank, Your Highness," said Boq rolling his eyes. There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "We were talking about penises." He did a double take and scrunched his forehead in uncertainty. He looked at the Emperor for guidance.

Liamn shrugged. "Penii? I don't know, alumnus is alumni and uterus is uteri."

"But, that's strictly –us's. It's pen-is, not pen-us. There's no "us" in penis," said Boq.

"I suppose not."

"Well, if you stick with the appropriate spelling," interjected Reyn. "Crisis is crises so…penes? See, now that doesn't seem right."

Glinda gaped. This couldn't be happening. Here they had dire issues to work out and they were discussing grammar.

"Well, you used to tutor for the Tiggular children, what say you?" asked the Emperor.

"Master Boq was correct the first time," said Reyn.

"Well, it's nice to know your brain is still in tact," said the Emperor to Boq.

"Yes, but shouldn't be long now until your heart goes, eh, Boq?" said Rowena giving him a nudge.

The atmosphere shifted. Glinda had forgotten all about that. It was the one thing she absolutely loved about Boq, his enormous heart. Even after all those years, he had loved her faithfully. Even after all those years of being held hostage by Nessa, he just couldn't leave her because he'd rather break his heart than hers. When he was made of tin, he was all hollow inside. He had lost himself for a while and Glinda had lost a friend as well.

"Since we're on the topic," said the Emperor, "the spells might as well be our first business. Glinda, would you like to start?"

She didn't, but there was no choice in the matter. She cleared her throat. "The potions seem to be temporary remedies. I must have missed an ingredient. The fault is entirely mine, I—I just don't know why they would be reversing now. There should have been signs, at least, it shouldn't have been so sudden—"

"I'll tell you why your petty potions didn't work," said Rowena twirling her braid around her finger. "Because the Grimmerie's spells are _irreversible_. Honestly, how stubborn can one be—"

"Rowena, do I have to show you to the corner once more?" asked the Emperor. "It's amazing how you can run your mouth like that in your own home."

"This is _not_ my home," she snapped. "Just because I'm a Tiggular doesn't mean I reside in this miserable palace. I gave up my princess-ship to pursue the thankless Governor's position of a desolate little country; the least you can give me is an ounce of respect!"

"Um, okay." Meetings weren't usually this unprofessional. The Emperor expected nothing less this time around, however. In fact he had a vision of it before he left the Emerald City. He could feel a change in Oz and it was starting with this group of elite—he didn't know what the danger was, but it couldn't be good.

"Chistery's escaped," said Rowena suddenly.

"What?" Glinda exclaimed. "When? How?"

"Last night. His wings have grown back fully. He's cleverly trained, this one. He faked his death and when the medical aid went in to check up on him, he clawed their eyes out and flew into the clouds like some sort of Sky God." She said this last part dreamily. Glinda never liked her sense of humor. "Can you believe he pretended to be dead? I wonder who taught him that." She snorted. "By the way, the flying monkeys are out of control and I think they're plotting something so… heads up."

Everyone looked at her in awe. "How in Oz can you be so blasé about this?" asked the Emperor. "This should be the top of your concerns."

"Oh no, Your Highness," sneered Rowena. "What I'm concerned about is that slipper you confiscated from me. What kind of powers does it contain, hm?"

"It—"

"None," said Glinda. They all turned their heads to her. The Emperor folded his hands. She could feel his gaze stronger than the rest. "Alone, the slipper is useless. With the other pair, it can… um…" She knew she if she revealed this now, she wouldn't be able to hold back other secrets she had been hiding from Liamn… secrets he ought to know as Emperor. As her husband. "It has the power of motion and space. They enable the paraplegic to walk. If you click the heels thrice, you can travel through any given space or time."

"And the Wicked Witch of the East designed these shoes?" asked Rowena.

"No," said Boq before Glinda could open her mouth. "Her sister cast a spell on them from the Grimmerie."

"So, that means it still has some juice left in them," said Rowena. "We have to find the other pair. This opens the doors to other worlds and the future—"

"Dangerous territory," interrupted the Emperor. "Trust me, it's hard enough simply knowing the future. I don't think it's wise if we tamper with it."

"You talk," said Rowena, "but you're able to do that astral projection garbage—"

"Only to observe. I'm not able to meddle with fate."

"And what's good knowing the future if you can't change it, hm?" snapped Rowena. She had some nerve challenging the worth of his powers. It was true that the Emperor wasn't as terrifying as the Wizard, but just because Ozians weren't terrified didn't mean they didn't hold the utmost respect for him. Rowena neither feared nor respected the Emperor. She treated him as her equal.

There wasn't a response. There was despondency in Liamn's eyes; his sighs were much heavier now. Glinda stood up to speak, but he put his hand on hers and she sat back down. "What we should be asking," he said, "is not about where to find the missing pair, but how it got here in the first place. I imagine Dorothy would be the one who'd have it last."

"The mutt fell out of the sky and she was found with that shoe in her mouth," said Rowena, leaning back. "Perhaps, it's Dorothy's mutt. Coco or something."

"Dodo," said Glinda.

"Toto," corrected Liamn. "Besides, if I remember correctly, her dog was a grayish color. Unless the dog was just extremely dirty, I doubt it's the same one."

"Elphie fell out of the sky…" wondered Glinda out loud. It was Elphaba's dog. Why she didn't realize it before… well, she knew why. If she knew Elphaba at all, there was no way she would own a dog. But, it had to be hers. Liamn looked at her carefully. Then he stood up.

"We need a plan of action," he said. "I told you about the two women missing. They need to be found. I am going to instate an Oz-wide search for these women and I expect compliance from every country. They may be resistant. But, I believe they'll be able to give us some answers and hopefully they can also help us recover the other shoe. Then the ruby slippers will be destroyed."

"_What_?" Rowena stood up. The Emperor shot her a look and reluctantly she sunk back into her seat. "You _cannot_ destroy something born out of the Grimmerie."

"Quiet," said the Emperor. "You don't know what you're saying. If you claim the spells are irreversible then you admit there's no hope for those monkeys or Boq or anybody else cursed by these spells."

"Bleeding hearts. At least when the Wizard was in power, he planned to milk the Grimmerie for what it was worth instead of condemning its ancient power—"

In an instance she disappeared, vaporized into thin air. Glinda stared at her empty seat, shocked. "Liamn! Where is she?"

"In a corner somewhere in the castle," he said. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. As for the spells reversing, I think I have an idea." He addressed Boq particularly. "There was a powerful woman named Farrah who helped the Animals while the Wizard reigned. I think she may be able to help us now."

"Why haven't you summoned her before?" asked Boq incredulously.

"She is quite difficult to reach," he said, "and disturbing her is the last thing you want to do unless you wave a hefty gift in front of her. Alright, adjourned. Wait, Reyn. The Gillikin advisor…"

"…couldn't make it, Your Highness…"

"Ah, yes, I figured that, but can you please give him my message…" Glinda stepped away from the two men and walked over to Boq. She looked at him sorrowfully. He was oiling his joints before getting up to stand.

"Well, don't just gawk, help me up," he said.

She nodded and grabbed one of his arms. It was hard and cold, lifeless, unlike the Boq she knew was inside somewhere. She helped him to the door. He still wasn't used to it yet. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He exhaled tiredly, and then smiled. Sometimes she missed the days when he was absolutely obsessed with her. "It's alright, Miss Glinda."

Reyn ran over to open the door for them. He took over responsibility over the Governor and Glinda thanked him. "While you're visiting Gillikin, tell Master Upland that I miss him loads." The Prince of Gillikin was only three-years-old and their country was partly under her reign until the prince was of age. Much of the responsibility, though, was of the advisor's, an old family friend.

When the room was empty, Liamn spoke. "Elphie is Elphaba."

"Yes," she answered hoarsely.

"And Elphaba is the Wicked Witch of the West."

She nodded.

"Glinda, this is not good." He paused. "Glinda the Good is not good. Hmm… that's kind of a turn on."

_**Author's Note: The Emperor always ends with these omniscient, foreboding lines. I thought I'd change it a bit lol Please review! Thank you guys so much 3**_


	10. Let's Get Ready to Rumble

_**Author's Note: First, I'd like to thank you guys for your warm words about my car accident. You guys are so sweet; thank God (or Allah or Buddha or Vishnu) we still have sweet people on this earth. I'm still stressed out because everything is piling up. I had a meltdown today at my chiropractor's office because the accumulation of emotions was just overwhelming. I knew the next little thing would set me off. So when they left me too long on the electrical stimulation machine (10 minutes too long) and no one came when I called for help, I burst into tears. The staff must think I'm nuts. I just needed a good cry! **_

_**Looks like updates will be once a week until I'm able to adjust. Then, maybe it'll increase to twice a week. I hope this story hasn't been forgotten =( I noticed I didn't do a chapter summary previous chapter. One will be provided now. Reviews would be lovely! Thank you!**_

_Where we left off: At the meeting with the legislators, the Emperor instated an Oz-wide search for the missing women in order to resolve the current crisis of reversing spells and the mystery of the Ruby slippers, which Glinda has finally revealed a bit of information of. Elphaba, her legs still injured, seeks to find the shoes without anyone's help. _

**Chapter Ten**

"Try and get some sleep. If there's a lead in the case, you'll be the first I call."

Someone was talking, but Isaac couldn't understand him. Every word said to him was incomprehensible, just white noise, there but distorted. He pulled the phone away from his ear and studied every piece of furniture in Elena's room. Her white dresser, her toy chest, the row of stuffed animals on the shelf, the Barbie house he had built only a few months before. He wanted to know if he could feel her presence.

Since their disappearance, he had held onto hope by the mere fact that he could feel Janice's body next to him in bed even though no one was there. A couple of nights ago, that feeling of her spirit disappeared without warning. Why, he didn't know.

"Isaac?"

He raised the phone to his ear. "Yeah, I heard. Thanks, Captain."

There was an apprehensive sigh on the other line. "Hey, kid, don't wear yourself out. They'll turn up."

"Alive?"

There wasn't an answer.

_I'm forgetting what her voice sounds like. I don't remember how she whispers my name. I'm forgetting my own daughter's face—I see kids at the playground, at school, and I think maybe she looked kind of like her or another one. I miss my wife. I miss my little girl. _

The vision vanished. The headaches were becoming less. Perhaps she was used to the hurt and the burn. The images she saw, however, were as painful as ever.

This was a castle she had abandoned long ago. No one had touched it since her alleged death. The rooms were cold and dark, wet from rain water leaking through the cracks in the walls and roof. Tables, chairs, books that were left behind had collected dust. The bedroom she had slept in still had her things in it—books she had read and written, spells and outlines scratched on parchment and a closet of her old clothing, mostly black of course. She was surprised they still fit her.

The cracked mirror in the corner revealed her true identity. She fastened the cape around her shoulders and glanced at her reflection. The tall, black hat veiled her eyes; the gorgeous dress, a gift from an old friend she still couldn't name, and the cape draped over her body still couldn't disguise the color of her skin, which was now completely green.

"You realize why you can't feel me anymore, Fiyero?" she said to no one in particular. She rubbed her forehead, the vision of her life in the other world still fresh in her mind. "Janice is dead. I'm back."

"Elphie?" Mai'galen slowly opened the door and paused. She had already figured out who Elphie really was. It didn't change anything. She still trusted her whether she was the Wicked Witch of the West or not.

"You're not going out to torture Monkeys, are you?" she asked.

"Mai'galen, that was never true," said Elphaba. "Look, I'd love to lecture you about my life story, but I have business to tend to."

"Aren't we in a temper?"

Elphaba glared at her icily. It was true her disposition was changing, but she had a lot of reason to be angry. "If you'll excuse me, I'm quite busy."

"Right, right. You have to make your big entrance." She avoided a nasty look from the green Witch. Mai'galen was sort of in a bitter mood herself. She didn't like the idea of staying here while Elphaba searched for the ruby slippers. "How did you get dressed, by the way?"

"I managed," said Elphaba, pulling her cape aside and revealing the broom she was using as a cane. She staggered to her closet and threw her hat off. "This costume is too overdramatic. I need something simpler."

"Well, you better hurry. You've spent nearly three hours getting dressed."

The Wicked Witch stared at the old woman. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide that tiny smile at the side of her mouth. "Great, the little blond rubbed off on me."

xoxoxo

They might have missed the sunset at Vinkus, but the Emperor and the Empress did stay a bit longer at the Tiggular palace to watch the stars rearrange themselves in the violet sky. It had been a while since Glinda was able to savor the warmth of her husband's embrace. And they were small things that made the moment magical. His sturdy arms wrapped around her body, the back of her head rested upon his chest. The little game they played, tracing messages on each other's skin, messages only the other would be able to discern. She knew his fingertips and he knew hers.

"This is nice," she said watching the twinkling lights dance. She caressed his hand lightly. There was a tiny tattoo just below his wrist of crossed vines, something he had acquired during the Animals' struggle.

She felt his lips on top of her head. "It could be nice every night… if you slept in our bed for once," he said softly, lightly. She always knew he missed her, but never realized just how much her presence meant to him.

"Go away," he said suddenly. Glinda raised an eyebrow. His eyes were focused on the moon. She peeked behind Liamn and saw one of the escorts at the doorway.

"Your Highness—"

"I said, go away," the Emperor repeated.

"But, Your Highness, the castle has been raided," said the escort quickly.

"This castle is being raided?" asked Glinda puzzled. If the castle was under attack, she was sure she and Liamn would know about it. The balcony was overlooking the front courtyard and they could see for miles.

"No," the escort said unsteadily. "Your palace in Oz was raided. Everything is torn up and the staff was either tied up or locked in a room and Lord Timolt just—"

The Emperor didn't let him finish. He rushed passed the escort with his wife following close behind. Who would do such a thing? Glinda was sure they didn't have any dangerous enemies, not ones who would dare break into their home anyway. The only people who would dare do something so bold and disrespectful were ones with enough courage and audacity to face the Emperor personally. But, who would?

"Did they take anything?" the Emperor asked the Captain of the Guard, who was now approaching him.

"If they even touched my diamond-encrusted silk stole, I'll have their head," said the Empress warningly.

"Don't worry, Your Highness," the Captain said. "None of your charms were broken. They're strong, they couldn't even make a dent."

"Or perhaps what they were looking for wasn't in the castle," said the Emperor.

A young woman screamed from above. They all looked at each other and headed for the stairs, the Captain leading the way. Glinda could feel her heart rising to her throat, pins and needles teasing her skin with their tips. As they were rushing down the hallway, Glinda felt Liamn's hand searching for hers. Their fingers intertwined and he squeezed.

"Did you hear that scream?" Rowena appeared from around the corner. With an arm full of skirt, she tried to trail not too far behind.

"I think it came from the master bedroom," whispered the Captain to the Emperor. Glinda bit her bottom lip. She could see the wooden doors just up ahead, slightly ajar.

Liamn suddenly tugged her arm. He pulled her against him, his lips near her ear. For a moment, it felt as if it was just the two of them in the hallway. "Stay here. I don't think you'll like what you see." If it were any other instance, she would have insisted in going inside. And it wasn't that she was afraid. It was because that simple request was from the man she loved most which had kept her from entering.

"What's going on?" asked Rowena finally catching up. When Glinda didn't answer, she took a few paces forward and pushed her way in between the guards.

"Ro', don't go in there!" hissed Glinda. She reached an arm out to the Governess and grabbed a handful of her skirt. Rowena threw her an irritable look and yanked her dress back, forcing Glinda inside with her. The guards looked at the women a bit taken aback. Resigned, she walked quietly to her husband, eyes on the floor. Glinda wasn't sure why she hadn't looked up when she stepped inside. Perhaps she didn't want to see what her husband warned her about. He was always right about these things.

"Sweet OZ," Rowena whispered. "I don't believe it."

The Emperor turned his head. He hadn't realized the women had entered. "Glinda, please."

Once she saw it, she couldn't turn away. Slowly, she walked ahead. Her face turned pale. The air thinned and she felt as if she needed to struggle to breathe. Fiyero's parents… it couldn't be so.

The scene was both peaceful and horrifying. Glinda could see why the guards were frozen to the floor, a sort of stunned expression on their face. The King and Queen lay on their beds, hands folded over their stomach. It was as if they were ready to enjoy a long, undisturbed slumber for the remainder of their lives. If it weren't for the blood soaking in the sheets, Glinda would have guessed their deaths were natural, not murder.

"W-well?" the Empress asked croakily. "Why are we all just standing here then? The murderer could be leagues away."

The Emperor shook his head. His eyes were closed. "The murderer is still in this castle."

"Wait one tick-tock," said Rowena, a despicable grin crawling on her lips. "Does this mean I'm Queen of Vinkus, Liamn?"

A soft cackle was heard within the walls then the lamps went out. A brush of wind swept past the hem of her Glinda's dress. It was like a ghost flying by. She felt her husband grab her hand and pull her into the hallway. It was pitch black. She could hear the Captain of the Guard giving his men orders she couldn't really comprehend. The only thing she could hear was their footsteps.

"Liamn—"

"This way." He was leading her through the darkness, moving left and right. She braced herself. She was sure they'd bump into something. Her palm relied on the walls for guidance. Silently she murmured a soft charm. The star on her wand illuminated a bright white.

"Thank you, dear," said Liamn, as he swung her around the corner and into the stairwell.

"I'm surprised you didn't run us into a wall," she said. It was difficult running down a flight of stairs with heels, but luckily her husband had his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Trying to free Animals from camps and cages stacked in the middle of nowhere, you learn how to maneuver your way through the dark," he said. They reached the throne room, where the cackling, high-pitched and familiar, became clearer and louder. A black figure flew above their heads.

"Don't be afraid," he said, trying to shield her with his robe. She wasn't afraid of the Witch, but of what the guards would do when they captured her.

"Where is she?" Glinda asked aloud. They stood at the center of the room.

She looked around, but her light only shone so far. She tried to look for a pair of eyes in the dark, a crooked hat. Where ever she directed her wand, she came up empty. All she saw were empty thrones, the double doors closed, long tables at the both sides of the room. There was a pounding in the walls. She couldn't tell whether it was the guards stomping their feet or one of Elphaba's scare tactics.

The Emperor's eyes explored the room, the ceiling. Glinda scanned the floors. There was an extra shadow circling them.

"No more games, Elphaba," commanded Liamn with a calm yet threatening voice. "Show yourself. If you want something, you're going to have to go through me. And I'll be far more generous if you do." The shadow Glinda was eyeing disappeared. She looked up at Liamn. He was waiting for a response.

"Elphaba?" a voice echoed. "You don't know me, Your Highness. You have no right to call me by that name."

"Even after I've welcomed you into my home?" he inquired, looking all around. "I must say, it isn't polite to raid the house of the people who restored you to health."

"Restored me to health?" her voice boomed. The lights slowly came up. The fire from the lamps was still dim enough for the shadows to witness the show. Across the room, the Wicked Witch of the West reincarnated hovered on her broom. Her skin was the emerald color Glinda always knew her for. She wasn't sporting her usual black hat and black robes. Instead, a blue frock took its place.

"Elphie—" started Glinda, but Elphaba interrupted her.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Do what?" asked Liamn.

"Nothing, I—" Glinda sighed. "I don't know what she's talking about."

"The visions," snarled Elphaba. "That potion you slipped into my drink was from the Grimmerie, wasn't it? You never could read that thing. If you hadn't tampered with my memories, I wouldn't be in this position."

"You tricked me!" said Glinda heatedly. "You made me think you were dead. It was the most dreadful thing you could do to your best friend!"

"Best friend?" The Emperor felt as if he was treading on fragile territory. He couldn't decide whether this was his fight or hers.

"You couldn't remember anything," continued Glinda. "I couldn't let you get away without an explanation. You owed me that much. I had to make you remember somehow!"

"Thank you, Your Highness!" Elphaba bellowed, her laughter ringing. "Oz will be delighted when they hear their shining Empress brought about the return of the Wicked Witch of the West!"

A light of indigo from Liamn's direction fired into the air. It zoomed past Elphaba, who pulled her broom upward to the ceiling. "What is it you want?" demanded the Emperor.

"She wants the Grimmerie," said Glinda softly. She fixed her eyes on his. He read them carefully. He knew her thoughts. She had taken the Grimmerie with her.

"Listen carefully," he said. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Take the book and head for the tower."

"What about Elph—"

"I'll take care of her."

"Liamn, she's not going to be fooled by your charm. She doesn't negotiate. I know how she—" The floor rumbled. A strike of what could have been lightning missed Glinda by an inch. She leapt into her husband's arms, shaken.

"She tore up our home and killed the King and Queen. I don't plan on negotiating," he said. "Now, please. Go."

He lifted his arm and another flare of indigo flew into the air. He missed. As soon as he heard his wife's footsteps fade away, he shot two or three flares up at a time. They spun like fireballs. They were aimless shots, but he was able to slow her down. She retaliated with similar blasts, comet-like and much faster than his. She was soaring into the ceiling, diving occasionally to throw a hit. He ducked and waved an arm in reflex, diverting the shots.

"Not much in combat, I see," taunted Elphaba, looping around the room.

"This isn't a fair fight," he said placing his arm in front of him. His hand glowed indigo and continued to grow. "You can fly. So let's make it a fair fight, shall we?" He threw his arm out, a pitiful toss it would seem as it missed her by at least three feet. The indigo rather than dissipating stopped in front of her and expanded. She had no time to stop and she collided with indigo light. Her broom smashed into pieces. She was thrown onto the floor, panting.

It was like glass grating across skin. His power was strong. It didn't burn as hot as hers, but the impact was profound. It pushed her off her broomstick before shattering it. Her legs hit the ground first. She couldn't move them anymore without screaming in pain.

"Stand up," said the Emperor. He was approaching her. She pressed her palms against the floor. Both brittle and stiff wood from the broom scraped her. "Get up. Come on, stand."

"I can't," grumbled Elphaba. She was ashamed and angry. She was ill-prepared and she didn't have a plan B. There wasn't time for it. Actions were of impulse.

"You're the Wicked Witch of the West," he said. He towered over her. She tried to look up at him. She wasn't going to make it seem like she was bowing at his feet.

"You're all about fair fights," she growled. "This isn't fair."

"You killed the Tiggulars."

"I did _not_." She was scooting back, crawling with her elbows, trying to get away from the Emperor. She didn't want him to kick her as well.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"I want those shoes."

"You're _still_ on about that? Shouldn't you be looking for your so-called missing daughter?"

Her blood boiled. Fingers aslant, she pointed at him and muttered a spell. He deflected it easily. Her mind was clouded; there was too much anger and too much pressure. She couldn't concentrate. She tried to inch away but he was always a few steps behind her. Her fingernails scratched the surface as she dragged her body to the doorway.

"I don't care who you are," he said calm and steady. "But, I can't let you get away with murder."

"I did not murder anyone," she said. She felt hot tears on her cheeks. It seemed no matter what she did or who she was, she could never escape the feeling of helplessness.

"It seemed you wanted to murder me."

"You got away, didn't you?"

He raised his arms. This time Elphaba couldn't fight him. She didn't have the strength. She would admit defeat and construct her next move while she was imprisoned in his dungeons. Wiping her tears away, she looked him straight in the eye, not focusing on the massive violet flame materializing beside him. He gestured to Elphaba and the flame began to move.

A streak of white split the flame in half. It engulfed the blue and rose into the air, where it scattered into little stars, raining on the top of their heads. Liamn couldn't believe something overcame a spell as powerful as his.

"Glinda," he said.

"Don't hurt her, Liamn." The Empress walked in front of the Wicked Witch, straight faced and stoic. It was the best protection Elphaba could ask for. The Emperor wouldn't dare hurt his wife.

"You make a choice," said Liamn, frowning.

"No," said the Empress impassively. "I've made my choice."

_**Author's Note: Chapters are getting slightly longer, but I hope that's a good thing. I would love to hear your thoughts about the chapter and your critiques, if you have any. They'll especially help me keep updates regular =) Thank you so much, guys!**_


	11. Witchy Woman

_**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all your support! I honestly thought it would take me much longer to reach fifty reviews, but you guys made it possible to hasten its arrival. Thank you, thank you; I am so grateful to you all. I am doing a lot better than last week, although I feel absolutely drained. I hope you guys are faring well! **_

_**I'm sorry this is a day late. I meant to post in yesterday but I emailed myself the wrong chapter. And Upload Manager was down. Reviews would be lovely, comments, rants, words of encouragement or pieces of advice are more than welcomed. This chapter sort of ties some things together, even though there are still plenty of mysteries yet to be unraveled. **_

_**Also, there are a lot of interweaving relationships between just about every character in this story, revealed especially in this chapter. I had to map it out to make sense of it myself. Can you guys figure it out? LOL **_

_Where we left off: The Wicked Witch of the West has invaded the palace of the Tiggulars, demanding the return of the ruby slippers. When the Emperor challenges her, a small battle takes place. In the end, the Emperor is able to corner her until the Empress comes to her rescue, an unpredicted surprise. Meanwhile, Isaac, or Fiyero, in the Other world continues to worry about his family._

**Chapter Eleven**

Isaac rested his head against the arm of the sofa. It got to the point where sleeping in his own bed felt wrong. He let his body go limp and his mind go blank. The remote control managed to escape his grasp and slowly, and sneakily, it slid off his fingers, retreating to the closest refuge under the couch. A cold breeze invited itself in through the open window beside him. The sky was starless tonight thanks to manmade pollution and city lights. The moon, white and full, lingered in the air in loneliness and sadness. It sorely wished for some company.

He had never felt so alone before. The empty house was no more than a constant reminder of the people who had made it a home. When the Captain asked if he had any relatives that could stay with him, he couldn't answer. He wasn't sure if he had any brothers or sisters. Janice and Elena was all he knew.

Groaning, he sat up and buried his face in his hands. Frustration had overwhelmed him. He lifted his head and looked at the grandfather clock for the time. Great, he thought, it's nine o'clock. It was nine o'clock two hours ago.

A whisper emerged among the creaking and tapping that always accompanied an empty house. His eyes followed the whisper that seemed to have been coming from the window. He tried to convince himself it was the wind or, at the very least, his imagination. But, he had never heard the wind so articulate before. It hissed a familiar name. Yero.

Long fingers crept along the windowpane. Isaac jumped back in surprise. They gripped the edge. A tall woman pulled herself up, her blond hair in a twist over her shoulder. He couldn't stop staring into her eyes, a dark violet, which glistened in the moon's spotlight. She was smiling at him, full, ruby-colored lips. She was dressed in red and orange satin.

"Yero," she whispered again with a dreamy sigh.

His first instinct was to call for backup. But, it might only set her off. He inhaled, still widening the gap between them. He kept alert. "Who are you?"

"Farrah," she answered. She tilted her head and frowned slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Wh—you—" He couldn't figure out what to say to her. He never really had to deal with psychopathic killers that weren't aware they were psychopathic killers. Something about her told him that he knew her or knew of her… no. He had to be hallucinating. "Why did you call me Yero?"

She shrugged and turned away, as if she was embarrassed about something. In fact, her cheeks turned a shy pink and she had to cover her mouth with one hand to hide her giggling. She looked down and leaned over the edge a bit so that her head was in the house. "Do you miss them?"

He froze. This had to be some sort of trick. Possibilities raced through his mind, so fast that he couldn't follow any of them. "Yeah," he answered reluctantly. His mouth went dry. "I do."

His eyes met hers, somber and grim. She stooped down and disappeared for a moment as if someone had seen her. Then she lurched over the open window as far in as she could. "I have a secret," she whispered.

She reminded him of how Elena used to play games with him. He would be reading the paper and she'd scramble onto lap. She would cup his ear with her two little hands and speak softly, but clearly. "I know where your keys are." And they would spend the whole afternoon scavenging the house for his car keys. With Elena, it was all about patience. Any sign of irritation would prolong the search. Maybe that would work here.

"What kind of a secret?" he asked lowering his voice the way she did.

She pressed her lips together. Her lashes fell and when she looked back up at him, she smirked. "About the ones you love. They're dead." The beating of his heart stopped. Hallucination or not, she wasn't lying.

One foot perched atop the windowsill and another swung over, landing on the carpet. She climbed inside. Her long dress dragged across the floor. Her shoulders were hunched just slightly in anticipation. Eyes still focused. She licked her lips hungrily.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Her eyes wandered to the ceiling. She thought for a moment. "I'm looking for a missing shoe."

He stood there, confused. "A shoe?"

Instead of answering the question, she smiled and skipped past him. She went into his bedroom and he heard drawers opening and closing. He slowly made his way to the grandfather clock. Behind it was a 9mm semi-automatic strapped near the top. It was the safest place he could think of, easily accessible and still out of Elena's reach. He tiptoed into the hallway and made his way into his bedroom, keeping his gun near his hip.

"Weapons make me nervous," she said turning around. She pressed her back against the wall. "I may not be from your world and so am not familiar with your gadgetry, but I know a weapon when I see one."

"What do you mean "my" world? What, are you ET or something?" He raised the gun in front of him and pointed at her. It was just a bluff, but it never failed him.

"Ah, here it is." She bent over and picked up one of Janice's shoes, a red one that he never saw her wear. "How about this? You give me this little souvenir and I'll spare you your life."

He didn't know whether he should laugh or not. "How about you drop what you're holding or I'll shoot?"

"Oh, Fiyero. You've always been so brainless."

xoxoxo

The Guards' fervent search for the Witch was still underway, even though she technically had already been captured by the unexpected Glinda the Good. She managed to drag Liamn and Elphaba to the nearby kitchen, fortunately empty, and locked the doors. They were ordered to sit in mutual corners and stay quiet while Glinda brewed a remedy for Elphaba's ailment. It wouldn't heal her, Glinda was no physician, but at least she would be able to walk for a few days. Hopefully by then, the other pair of the ruby slippers would be found. In the meantime, the Emperor kept the other shoe hidden and refused to reveal its location to Elphaba or his wife.

"The Gale Force is chasing a ghost," said Elphaba. She was sitting beside the bag of flour on the floor, scratching the wall with her fingernails. She was bored.

"It gives them something to do," replied Glinda, stirring the pot.

"Dearest, may I have a glass of water?" asked the Emperor.

"Shut up, Liamn."

"The man's just thirsty, Glinda," said Elphaba, staring at the wall. She felt the Emperor's eyes on her, slightly confused, but heavily guarded.

"He is not," replied the Empress. "He wants to throw it over you to see if you'll melt. But, we all know that was a charade. I hope this teaches him that just because he knows the future doesn't mean he's always right." She took the ladle and poured the yellow liquid (still bubbling) into a mug. She walked over to Elphaba.

"Tell me more about your visions. Do be careful, it's still hot."

Elphaba carried the warm mug between her palms. "There's nothing more I can say than what I have already told you." She sipped the potion and there was an explosion of flavor. It tasted like cinnamon, apples and spice. She could feel her legs beginning to tingle. "Thanks, Glinda."

"Of course," she said. She looked at Liamn, who was trying hard not to gawk. It usually didn't take him very long to adapt to change, however bizarre, but this scene boggled him. "Truce?"

He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Truce? With the woman who broke into our home and tied up the servants? Truce with the woman who killed the Tiggulars? Or haven't you forgotten the renown she's gained for terrorizing Animals?"

"First of all, I didn't tie up your servants," said Elphaba. "Mai'galen did. The woman nags like it's the only thing she knows how to do; I had to take her with me. But, I left her at your palace so she can tend to them, make sure everyone was alright."

"Oh fine, leave the crazy old lady to look after things," said the Emperor.

"Second, I did not kill the Tiggulars," she continued ignoring his remark. "I wouldn't have the heart to kill Fiyero's parents."

"Fiyero?" asked Glinda softly. "And is he…?" She was just as worried about him as Elphaba was. She wasn't sure whether he was really dead as she had always believed or if he was also sucked back into Oz and roaming around without a memory. Liamn turned his head away.

"Probably worried sick," answered Elphaba. "And if Your Highness cares to know, I did not terrorize Animals. I was part of the Cause."

There was a cynical snort at the other side of the room. "I would have known if you were helping us. Farrah would have mentioned you to me."

"Farrah was intelligent enough to know that spreading my identity would only hurt the Cause," snapped Elphaba. "My identity was revealed on a need-to-know basis. You were not part of that committee. But, don't convince yourself that I know nothing about you, Liamn. She spoke of you all the time."

There was a slight blush over his cheeks as he broke his gaze and wandered his eyes to the floor. Glinda ruffled the ribbons on her dress, a strange, cold feeling slithering down her spine. It was the first time she had ever heard of another woman's name treated in the same vein as Liamn would treat hers.

"Who is this Farrah?" she asked no one in particular. Her attention was directed toward Elphaba, but she rather prefered Liamn's answer.

"She led the Animals' in their struggle. She oversaw things. If someone needed rescuing, we would turn to her first," he replied in a meek voice.

"So…" Glinda turned to Elphaba. "You weren't the brains of the operation?"

The Witch shook her head. "Far from it. She was indisputably the most powerful of any of us. A legendary witch. If you had read any of your history books at Shiz, you would know who she is."

"She is someone who likes her privacy a little too much, which makes her a bit dangerous," added Liamn. "You don't cross the line. You don't ask for too much. She isn't looking for glory or acclaim. She isn't clouded by greed. The only thing she ever wanted was love." He stopped himself. There was a momentary exchange of glances between him and Elphaba. It was a wonder to Glinda how two people who hardly knew each other, and initially hated each other, had so much in common.

"You two seemed like you were close to her," said Glinda.

"She relied on us," said Elphaba. "I was able to communicate well with the Animals; they were able to trust me. I had the Grimmerie and was able to read it. I have no idea why Liamn was so important. He's useless. Perhaps she had other needs—"

"I knew Oz better than anyone," he interjected quickly, shooting her an irritable look. "I knew the safest places to hide away, when and where the rivers migrated, how to summon fairies to help us. It was a trade passed down in my family to know about Oz's secrets and history."

Glinda held out her hand to Elphaba. The mug was just about empty. The potion should work immediately. A green hand reached out for Glinda's grasp, her long fingers dry from the hard wind. Their fingers intertwined and the Witch was brought to her feet. Her knees stayed bent, but she was standing. She leaned on the wall for control.

"You'll be able to gain your strength in an hour," said Glinda, walking in between Liamn and Elphaba. "Right now, your legs are just reacquainting themselves with gravity." She turned to Liamn. "At the meeting you said you were going to ask Farrah to help us."

"What?" asked Elphaba incredulously. "How do you suppose you go about doing that? You said it yourself, she likes her privacy. She doesn't ever want to be disturbed. We don't go to her; she comes to us."

"Perhaps she didn't trust you the way she trusted me," said Liamn.

"See here, _Your Highness_—"

"Alright, stop it," said Glinda. "So we summon Farrah and, what, she makes everything better? Is this how your little game works?"

"She doesn't grant many favors," said Elphaba. "In fact, she will probably only grant one. And the deciding factor will be whose gift she likes best." She took a few steps forward, her legs still wobbling but her stride a bit more confident. "Which will be mine of course."

"I highly doubt that," said Liamn.

"Your Highness is mistaken if he thinks he can top my offering."

"You've been dead for over ten years. You have nothing."

"That may be true, but nonetheless, I am going to find the Sapphire for her."

"Not fair! That was my idea!"

"STOP!" shrieked Glinda. "Children, please." Her head was spinning. She had never thought she'd see the day when _she_ would be the mediator of two immature urchins

It was a bit difficult for her to comprehend who Farrah was and what kind of power she bestowed. She had missed a lot being on the other side, politically, literally, and as far as she had known, the Wizard was the most terrible and the most powerful (influentially speaking). She didn't think there was anybody who could stop him. Only the truth was enough to force his leave.

"Forgive me," said Glinda, "but all this sounds a little, I don't know… ridiculous? Some witch who grants wishes to anyone who gives her a gift? Sounds a bit like a fable parents tell children before bed."

"Those fables don't come out of thin air, dearest," said Liamn solemnly. There was a frown on his face that left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. He and Elphaba looked at her as if she was naïve, but these fables couldn't be true…could they?

"What is the Sapphire?" asked Glinda.

"It was the centerpiece when Emerald City used to be called Jewel City," said Liamn. "When the Wizard transformed the capital of Oz, he hid the stone and told no one. Farrah has lived a thousand years and cherishes trinkets of history."

"She's a collector," said Elphaba. "She doesn't ask for power… just gifts."

"She could undo the curses if we asked," said Liamn. He couldn't help it, but he had politics in mind. He was thinking about her reputation. If Oz lost faith in her, then future remedies of hers could be rejected and all her future good would be held questionable. He was thinking about his country and the inhabitants that suffered the Grimmerie's spells. She couldn't help but agree with his ideals. She was Empress after all.

"Glinda, help me," begged Elphaba, her eyes growing sad. "I have to find Elena. I don't have much hope left. Every bone in my body is telling me she didn't make it. Please… at least help me recover the body."

There was a sign of weakness in the way her words held so much effort and in the way her shoulders drooped. The hurt she must have been feeling was nothing Glinda had ever known. She knew she would never be able to understand the difference between a mother's grief and everyone else's. Nor would she ever be able to understand the difference between a mother's joy and everyone else's. Elphaba had said that Glinda the Good had achieved all she never could. That may have been true then, but now Glinda felt it was the opposite.

"Liamn…" said Glinda, her voice pleading.

"Fine," he said. He turned to Elphaba, his face hard and serious. "I'll do everything in my power to help you find the Sapphire. Farrah will find your daughter. You need not worry."

"Easier said than done," said the Wicked Witch skeptically. "You don't think I'll be murdered by one of your Ozians out there once they find me roaming their land?"

"I promise you won't get hurt," he said. "You'll be protected—"

"By your spineless Gale Force?"

"I will keep you safe," the Emperor promised. If there was one thing that Elphaba knew about Liamn it was that he never broke his word. When he had told Farrah he'd have the camps burned down by dawn, he wasn't a second late. When he had told Farrah he'd keep Dillamond alive, he did just that. Although the Goat was speechless by the time Elphaba had found him, he was still alive.

"Break your pact and I'll break your neck," she forewarned.

"Glinda was right, you aren't one for negotiations," he said. He walked over to his wife and put a gentle hand on her arm. "If you'll let me, I'll tell the Guards to cease their futile hunt and not to fear because she is… a friend." He didn't sound very convincing. But, he had know other choice.

"Go," said Glinda, waving her wand. The Emperor dismissed himself and once the charms on the doors were lifted, he let himself out. The two friends stood silently in front of one another, not sure if she should speak or wait for the other to do so. For the Empress, the anticipation was agonizing. She never thought she'd ever see Elphaba again.

"Elphie, I'm sorry," she said, and the two embraced. She still had to stand on her toes to wrap her arms around her best friend's neck, something she didn't mind doing.

"Don't apologize, Glinda," said Elphaba, squeezing. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I left Oz. I wanted to, but—I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about your house and—"

"I know you had to," said Glinda, pulling away. There were tears behind her friend's eyes, ones she refused to let go. "I can't imagine myself doing it differently, I suppose. I mean… I don't know how you must be feeling. You must miss her terribly."

"More than I've ever missed anyone," she said softly.

Glinda nodded. The two friends missed each other greatly, but if that was multiplied tenfold, it wouldn't even amount to what Elphaba was feeling about her daughter. "Liamn will help. You can trust him."

"Glinda. I know."

"Of course you do."

"No. I mean… I know."

Glinda stopped to look into her friend's eyes, which had grown dark and narrow. It scared her to think that Elphaba may know something she had never meant to tell, a secret she had wanted to take to her grave. "What do you know?" she asked hesitantly.

"I know about those potions you've been trying to brew," said Elphaba. "The ones that always fail. Liamn is right; only black magic can do what you're trying to do."

Glinda bit her lip and shook her head. "Don't say that, Elphie—"

"I'm sorry. I really am."

She sighed and felt her nose sting, her throat closing up. "I've only ever wanted to be a mother. Liamn blames himself. He thinks there's something wrong with him, but I think it's me."

"Maybe there are others who require your love and devotion much more," said Elphaba offering some solace.

Glinda laughed and shook her head. "You know, I had the perfect plan for how my life was supposed to turn out. And then I met you."

Elphaba smiled. "Changed for good."

_**Author's Note: Thanks everyone! I hope that wasn't too dry. Did you all catch who Farrah was from previous chapters? ;)**_


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